sorry everyone, i have zero motivation to be here or even write fics. it’s not very fun for me right now, so i guess i’m going on a bit of a hiatus (although i’m still here!) 🤍🤍
warnings. | SMUT, use of a strap-on, mild dom/sub elements, friends-with-benefits/fuck-buddy relationship, pet names, praise, mild degradation, slight overstatement, scissoring, dirty talk, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!
pairing. | Natasha Romanoff x fem!fuck-buddy!reader.
author’s note. | happy pride month! here’s a little concept. enjoy! no beta, all mistakes are my own. taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY!
Red hair. Red in her ledger. Reddish lips. Red dress. Red is everywhere.
You know there are different names for different shades, but you just umbrella-term them all—Natasha.
Even the red-adjacent colours are Natasha. Pink and blood orange, even purple made from complete scratch.
Natasha knows all about your little red-habit. She’s even developed her own, too. Whenever she sees red, she thinks of you thinking of her. And that makes her cheeks turn a subtle red, since she’s been trained well. Never let them into your mind.
She’s smug about it. You think it’s on purpose, since her new strap is red, and she has a grin on her face as she plows into you.
The usually pristine bed is wrinkled mess underneath you. You grip onto the sheets tightly, and when you focus enough, you catch a whiff of Natasha’s laundry detergent. You two rarely make it onto the mattress when she visits, always ending up on the floor, against the wall, or on the couch.
She always has you stay here whenever she’s away. If you told your other friends about this, they would call your dynamic with the redhead something she swears it isn’t.
Natasha’s strap-on drives into you with such passion and desperation, her skill bleeding through it all as she expertly fucks you. Your loud moans fill the room, and they’re music to your fuck-buddy’s ears.
“Yeah, that’s it. What a good little slut,” she chuckles, admiring your blown-out eyes and slacked jaw. Her words have you whimpering, a mild pout to your lip—the sight is both cute and sexy. “Aw, poor baby,” Natasha coos in faux-sympathy, punctuating her words with thrusts.
Her demeanour falters for a bit, when she rolls her hips to increase your pleasure. Her aching clit receives some friction, making her let out a soft moan. She cannot wait until you’re a complete fucked-out mess, desperate and begging her to let you eat her out. That’s one of her favourite parts.
Your tits bounce with Natasha’s every thrust. You try to keep your legs open, but the amount of euphoria that shoots through your body makes it difficult to do so.
She blesses you with the push and pull of her hips, grazing against your sweet spot as she brings you closer to your high. Her warm hands hold onto your waist, fingertips sinking into your skin. Natasha’s nails are polished red, all for the sake of a mission that saved innocent lives and ended harmful ones.
“‘S so good,” you slur, voice sounding like a whimper. The tone, along with the squelching sounds of your sopping cunt, make Natasha’s ego swell. “You like this, petal? Hm? You like getting fucked like a slut?” she asks.
You can’t form any proper words, so you just nod your head and mewl. Her words make your pussy clench. Gasps leave your throat as that familiar feeling begins to build up inside you. You ascend the high quickly, and one of Natasha’s hands move downwards to rub your clit.
Her mildly-rough fingertips add just the right amount of friction to your swollen nub, pushing you over the edge as you cry out. Your back arches off the bed, and Natasha’s plump lips meet yours in a steamy kiss.
Her red lipstick has already left smudges along your body and face, a sight to behold. In her mind, she cannot wait to get her private phone out and snap a few pictures. You try to keep up with her mouth as it moves against yours, tongue pushing inside, and Natasha practically takes your breath away.
Your fuck-buddy swallows up your pornographic sounds, dragging her hips in a way that allows you to ride your orgasm out and feel everything.
Your cunt hugs her strap-on tightly, coating the material with your slick. “Good girl,” she exhales, an almost love-drunk smile on her face once she pulls away from the kiss. You grin at the praise, preening under Natasha’s intense gaze.
“Wanna give me one more?” she teasingly questions, slowing her thrusts. She caresses your swollen pearl. You’ve already came for her more than once—on her fingers a few times before she split you open. You contemplate it as her touches become more and more insistent, yet tormenting. Before you can even answer, Natasha makes the decision for you.
She slowly pulls out of your pussy, admiring how you’ve left her strap glistening. You manage to lean forward and get on your knees. You help her take her fake cock off before locking eyes with the redhead, your mouth opening and tongue stretching out.
Your clean up the mess you’ve made on Natasha’s strap, revelling in the taste of your cunt. The sensual scene makes Natasha’s clit throb, and you can feel yourself aching once again. Her breathing becomes heavy, but she doesn’t stop you for one second.
You make a show of it, humming in delight until she’s had enough of your shenanigans. She pulls the strap-on away and pushes you onto your back once again, climbing on top of you. She straddles your legs, and your stomach fills with butterflies in excitement.
Natasha’s wet cunt rests on your thigh, and vice-versa. The feeling of her hot flesh against your skin makes you whimper. She grabs hold of your hip with one hand, and uses the other to play with your body.
“Dirty, dirty girl,” she chides, gyrating her hips as she scissors with you. She cups your chin and lightly slaps your face, loving how you look completely gone.
“You need me so bad, dontcha?” Natasha smirks, picking up the pace. Your dripping pussy rubs against her thigh, whimpers leaving your mouth. “Uh-huh, need you so bad,” you mewl, meeting her movements.
Her head tilts back, red hair cascading down her back just a bit. She’s let it grow out a bit, but you know she’ll cut and dye it another colour soon. You never really mind, but you always prefer her natural shade.
Your hands reach up, moving along her toned abs and cupping her breasts. She’s beautiful—truly a sight to behold. She takes charge, though, pinching your nipples and groping you whenever she feels like.
You become a mess beneath her, climax building up again. You know her’s is impending, too, with the way her mouth drops open and her grinding speeds up a bit. The shared slick-sounds fill the room, as well as the smell of sex and your collective moans.
It’s almost poetic—how you both come undone at the same time. You try your hardest to keep going, euphoria seizing your muscles.
Your hips buck upwards to meet Nat’s, and she gasps as the waves of her orgasm crash down. Her eyes squeeze shut, her nails sink into your skin a little, the sting adding the perfect amount of pain to your pleasure.
You gasp as you slowly come down from your high. The stars in your vision dissipate, and your heart clamours in your chest.
Natasha leans over you, moving closer. Her breasts rub against yours as she uses your body for her satisfaction. You take gratification in this, part of you wishing you could be nothing but her plaything for the rest of your life.
Before your thoughts run too wild, she captures you into a searing kiss once again, taking complete control. She lets you breathe every now and then, letting out groans and sighs of satisfaction, before she resumes her actions.
You squeeze your eyes tightly, seeing a bit of red in the darkness. Natasha is always there—she’s everywhere. But you prefer her on top of you, making you feel the most sinful of things. Things you savour as precious, sensual memories full of red-hot passion.
Welcome to the Lloyd Hansen Writing Challenge, hosted by the Lloyd Hansen server.
About 2 years ago, we got our first taste of Lloyd Hansen through Netflix’s trailers. From then on, we were hooked. To celebrate this anniversary, we invite writers to join our challenge and create their own Lloyd Hansen fics!
This challenge is 18+ ONLY. Minors are not allowed to engage in any way, shape, or form. It is open to everyone—not just members of our server, although we encourage you to join us if you haven’t already.
All fics will be about Lloyd Hansen. We do not allow incest (stepcest is permitted), underage, or scat play. Fics should be reader inserts and as inclusive as possible. Any genre (dark, smut, angst, fluff) is allowed.
There is no word count requirement. However, you must use a “read more” break, no matter the length. Use appropriate warnings.
The deadline for the challenge is July 22nd, 2024. This is not a strict deadline at all!
You will choose a dialogue that the character has said in the film and transform it from the original context. Certain prompts are open to changing as long as you note that somewhere. Once you’ve chosen a prompt and sent us an ask with it, it will be crossed off from the list. Prompts are on a first-come, first-serve basis! You can select up to 5 prompts.
Need feedback or advice? Feel free to message either one of the mods (@hansensgirl or @cuttlefjsh), or visit our server to discuss your fic with other members.
TAG YOUR FICS WITH THE TAG #Lloyd Hansen Server WC24
Happy writing!
Asterisks + ‘[…]’ indicates a prompt is open for change.
Should we try again?
Boring.
“Mostly, it’s loss which teaches us about the worth of things.” That’s Arthur Schopenhauer. He was a German philosopher, a pessimist. He saw the value in suffering.
Damn it. Phones on silent when I’m working, please.
Still just flirting. But… [...] getting there. *
Well, no one goes to Harvard to play football.
I like to be the exception. What’s up?
Gimme a name.
Could be fun.
Well, I’m gonna need a full green light on this one. Open checkbook.
I’d rather you punch me in the dick.
We’ll find somebody [...] loves and squeeze. *
Have I ever done you wrong, [...]? *
Professionally maybe. Lloyd Hansen, Hansen Government Services.
Aw, does it? Good.
You know my work. That’ll make this next part a lot easier.
You know what makes me sad, [...]? *
Five and a half.
Who likes cats?
Let’s talk about the mess your [...] made. *
Oh, [...] made a big one. And judging by your shallow breathing and puckered asshole*, I can only assume you know why I’m here.
But see, that’s the beauty of the private sector. I don’t care about reasons.
My guess is you’re helping [...] already. So this shouldn’t put too much of a dent in your day. *
But your file, well, that’s chock-full of nuggets, some of which might make you rethink your fussy attitude.
You gonna answer it?
Hey, sunshine. Lloyd Hansen here. I’m the one running this op.
The one where I get exactly what I want.
Okay, that’s fair. Well, why don’t you come on in, and we can chat? My assistant will get lunch. You like sushi?
Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page.
Looks like you need a new phone.
Don’t say “preternatural” to me. It’s an asshole word.
And that, [...], is exactly what bad ethics and zero impulse control will get you. *
I can kill anybody.
Well, we’ll see.
We need to ground in *Vienna.
How do you feel about your license?
Who’s up for some *Tafelspitz?
Hey, sunshine.
What gave it away?
Ballsy.
Nice try, pumpkin.
What size shoe are you?
Can someone get me a Vicodin, please?
On the run, scared shit less.
You know all those rules you guys are always trying to work your way around? They don’t mean dick to me.
Shut up and go sit in the corner.
Oh. How about that?
Forget about the Vicodin.
That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.
Goldilocks, would you be a lamb and excuse us?
Shhh. Please.
Now, whatever I just did to your *ears, it’s not even torture. I just made it up on the spot. Just came to me. And that’s how this is gonna go.
Should we try again?
Maybe we should get the *girl back in here.
Well, that was unexpected.
Make him dead.
My God, how hard is it to shoot somebody?
What I do can’t be taught.
You know what I love about you?
Yahtzee.
No, success qualifies as success.
You wanna make an omelette, you gotta *kill some people.
You know, in English, we call this a *happy ending. However, if you say one more word, you may not see it that way.
Lock everything down.
Get me eyes on the bridge.
You’re making me destroy a historic building here!
Wait! Please don’t shoot! Look what you did to my hand.
Give me that, you little shit.
Now you pick those feet up, or you’re gonna get dead real quick.
Now, listen. You shut up, and you don’t move.
Now, I’m gonna stop you right there, cupcake.
What do you say we wrap this up?
I mean, I’m having a blast, but it’s way past the kid’s bedtime, don’t you think?
You’re gonna throw me that gun, or the little one gets a new face. *
It’s really a shame this isn’t gonna work out between us.
Now normally, at this point in the night, I wouldn’t be sticking around.
With the house lights about to come on, I’d find a desperate, ugly chick to lick my wounds and split, but you have been a pebble in my shoe since the very beginning.
i have an influx of new readers and followers! welcome all!!!
here’s a psa on my rules:
MINORS ARE NOT ALLOWED HERE. this blog is 18+ ONLY. minors will be blocked. please put your age/birth year/age range in your bio. you will be blocked if you do not do so.
i do not consent to any translations, reposts, copying, reselling, rewriting, or the use of AI on my writing AT ALL.
i write primarily dark and taboo fics on this blog. heed the warnings and proceed with caution. you are responsible for your own media consumption.
do not share my blog/fics on other social media platforms.
if you enjoy a fic, REBLOG IT! spam-likers will be blocked. support content creators by reblogging.
i have added a new rule. if you do not have your age (in any way) in your bio or indicated anywhere else, you will be BLOCKED. blank blogs will also be blocked.
thinking about fixer-upper characters 👀 especially dark ones 👀 (TW)
jake is your IT guy who, of course, hacks into your security system, and places cameras and microphones around your home to spy on you.
andy is your suburban neighbour who helps you with the grill and lawnmower. he’s not ashamed to go shirtless and stare at you on a hot summer day, when you’re wearing minimal clothing.
ari can do it all, really. he insists—willing to do it all for free in exchange for a little something… like andy, he goes shirtless when it gets too hot, and takes his time with his repairs so that he can spend more time with you.
steve is just like ari, hiking up his prices because he knows you can’t afford it. he had two payment methods, and threatens you with tearing everything down unless you get on your knees and open that pretty mouth of yours.
ransom and lloyd do interior designing, and they always bicker. they can never come to an agreement, and so they always ask you, their little customer, for your opinion. they ply you with caresses and dark gazes to get you to side with one or the other.
oh, and let’s just imagine them all together, working on your home in tandem—easily overpowering you and taking whatever they’d like.
i have an influx of new readers and followers! welcome all!!!
here’s a psa on my rules:
MINORS ARE NOT ALLOWED HERE. this blog is 18+ ONLY. minors will be blocked. please put your age/birth year/age range in your bio. you will be blocked if you do not do so.
i do not consent to any translations, reposts, copying, reselling, rewriting, or the use of AI on my writing AT ALL.
i write primarily dark and taboo fics on this blog. heed the warnings and proceed with caution. you are responsible for your own media consumption.
do not share my blog/fics on other social media platforms.
if you enjoy a fic, REBLOG IT! spam-likers will be blocked. support content creators by reblogging.
i have added a new rule. if you do not have your age (in any way) in your bio or indicated anywhere else, you will be BLOCKED. blank blogs will also be blocked.
i have an influx of new readers and followers! welcome all!!!
here’s a psa on my rules:
MINORS ARE NOT ALLOWED HERE. this blog is 18+ ONLY. minors will be blocked. please put your age/birth year/age range in your bio. you will be blocked if you do not do so.
i do not consent to any translations, reposts, copying, reselling, rewriting, or the use of AI on my writing AT ALL.
i write primarily dark and taboo fics on this blog. heed the warnings and proceed with caution. you are responsible for your own media consumption.
do not share my blog/fics on other social media platforms.
if you enjoy a fic, REBLOG IT! spam-likers will be blocked. support content creators by reblogging.
summary. | The mob boss has an alternate way you can pay off your debt.
pairing. | dark!mob boss!Ari Levinson x naive!fem!reader.
chapter warnings. | NON/DUBCON, SMUT, dark themes, obsession, stalking, mob themes, manipulation, pet names, age gap, innocence kink, abuse of power, corruption kink, power imbalance, smoking (ari), debt, Daddy kink, control kink, jealousy/possessiveness, anxiety/fear, mild foreplay, vaginal sex, rough sex, praise, degradation, dirty talk, rough sex, mild choking, deceit, lying, drinking, creampie, manhandling (a bit), size kink (cock), alluded spying/stalking, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!
word count. | ~5.6k
author’s note. | series masterlist. after a million years, here’s the final part! i hope you enjoyed this series. please enjoy the final part and don’t forget to reblog. any and all feedback (positive) is welcome. no beta, all mistakes are my own. taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY!
Time drags by slowly, each minute feeling longer than usual. Perhaps it’s because you don’t do much anymore. You continue with your regular routine, though waking up and going to bed early isn’t necessary.
Ari visits often, taking you on drives along scenic routes you never knew your city had. He sometimes stays with you at home, watching a movie while you feast on snacks. Any time you’re graced with his presence, he comes bearing gifts.
The first present required much convincing for you to accept. It was a set of rings with elegant jewels that cost more than your life. The mob boss placed each one on your fingers and kissed the pads of your digits, his lips so soft that you can still feel them.
You keep the rings locked up in your drawer, buried under items a thief wouldn’t bother searching through. Wearing them makes you feel like someone you aren’t—his girlfriend. No, you’re just his… something, for now.
The day after Ari’s first gift, he arrived on your doorstep with another.
Whenever you see him, he is always put-together. He wears expensive suits, and his hair is perfectly styled yet effortless. He’s considerate, too, always asking about your eating habits and making sure you’re doing more than well while under his care.
The second present was a pair of shoes you had secretly been vying for whenever you got the chance to window-shop downtown. Ari sat you down on your couch and gently lifted your feet, slipping the shoes on as if you were Cinderella, and he was Prince Charming.
His touch remained gentle, although you knew he isn’t always this way with others. Sometimes, you think of what Ari does when he isn’t with you. Does he torture his enemies? Lurk in the shadows? Visit restaurants that are really fronts for more lucrative operations?
You push these ideas out of your mind when you realize they’ll do you no good, as the older man often says. He catches you zoning out and getting lost in your thoughts repeatedly. It’s not as if you’re overthinking about yourself; you just can’t help but worry about the arrangement you’re in.
Unlike the rings, you wear the shoes with pride and a twang of guilt. You’re supposed to be paying Ari back, yet here he is, spoiling you into oblivion. You don’t want to ask him why. You figure it must be mobster gentlemanliness, right?
It’s been one month since the arrangement began, and you find you’re settling into it well. Ari makes sure of this, smoothing over all the wrinkles and ensuring that everything is the way it should be—the way he wants it to be.
You wake up in peace, noting that it’s half an hour later than you usually set your alarm. You even linger in bed, trying to recall your terrifying dream about running from a man who posed as an ally at first. But you never escaped, and now you have to catch your breath. You barely remember what he looked like.
On your bedside table—which is brand new after Ari replaced your old one—is a piece of paper you know you didn’t leave. You grab it and sit up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes once you brace against the backboard.
You recognize the handwriting immediately. It’s Ari’s. You don’t question when he left it, although the older man didn’t visit yesterday. Something about a deal gone wrong made him busy. You told him you didn’t mind just so he would spare you the details.
The truth is that you did mind. You mind a lot, actually. You find yourself thinking about the mob boss almost every second of the day, like he’s some crush you hope you can have all to yourself.
*Princess,
I hope you slept nicely. Don’t tire yourself too much today. I’m taking you out tonight. Please answer the door at around 1:30. It’ll be one of my associates.
*Yours forever,
Daddy
You smile as you re-read each word. You appreciate the beauty of his handwriting and the fact he took the time out of his hectic days to leave you a note.
Once the rose-coloured haze disappears, you focus on the contents of the letter. Butterflies fill your stomach, but they taunt and awaken your worries instead of making you lovesick. You haven’t gone out in forever—where will Ari take you?
You get out of bed, and instead of brushing your teeth, you begin to pace along the expanse of your small bedroom. You have nothing nice enough to wear out on the town—nothing to suit your counterpart, at least. You believe you’ll look like an utter fool next to the revered man.
You eventually will yourself to calm down. You eat a delicious breakfast and search through your closet. Nothing.
The morning bleeds into the afternoon, and before you know it, there is a knock on your door. It’s the same pattern Ari used before getting himself a key to your home. You recall the orders he left on the note and rush to open the door.
You’re greeted by the face of Curtis, Ari’s most trusted associate. You’ve seen him from time to time, often staring down the girl in charge of serving the men with drinks and cigars or cigarettes. Whatever vice they want, she offers it up immediately.
Curtis doesn’t say much, and neither do you. He hands you two heavy bags—a paper one filled with boxes and a garment one—and grabs the door handle, shutting it for you. The exchange is weird, but you know Curtis is just doing his job. You can only imagine what Ari would do if he found out one of his employees went against his rules.
The mob boss has told you about his jealous streak, but you would never reveal how flattered you are that he feels that way about you. Though you chalk it up to just being business.
You turn the lock into place and set the bag on the couch, sitting next to it. Another gift! You’re more excited than you’d like to admit. With slightly shaky hands, you reach into the bag and take the tissue paper out.
It’s white with little colourful circles that remind you of confetti cake, Ari’s favourite. You baked it with him one night, and it was delicious. You giggle at the memory of him covered in flour and cake mix.
You’re gentle as you unwrap your gift. The first box is sleek, and you recognize the brand name. You’ve only ever dreamed of affording their cheapest item.
The gasp that leaves you when you take the lid off the box is audible and would make Ari chuckle. Inside is a pair of heels that gleam in the low light of your living room. You take one shoe out gently and inspect the details. They’re a work of art—and they’re all yours.
You feel like a spoiled kid on Christmas morning, squealing and gawking at everything. You close the first box and reach for the next. This one is smaller but heavier. The outside is covered in what feels like suede or velvet.
You pry it open, and your jaw drops. Inside is a beautiful diamond necklace with matching earrings. You’re not sure what the price is, but you know it must be worth a fortune. Your fingers itch to touch the jewels, but you resist the urge.
It’s too much. You can barely breathe.
As if you’re being spied on, your phone rings when you abruptly shut the box. You search for the device briefly, succeeding just at the last few trills. It’s Ari.
You answer the call quickly. His baritone voice comes out of the speaker, sounding just like honey.
“Hey, sweetie,” he greets. You can hear doors shutting on his end, as well as the click of a lighter and the telltale squeak of his chair. “Hi, Daddy,” you sigh almost dreamily.
Ari exhales audibly, and you assume he’s smoking. The thought of his nasty habit makes you wrinkle your nose. “D’you get your gifts, baby?” he asks. “Yes—but I can’t accept them, Daddy, it’s too much,” you protest, glancing back at the boxes. You realize you haven’t opened the garment bag yet.
“There’s no such thing as ‘too much’ when I’m spoiling you, honey,” he chides. You fiddle with the wrinkled fabric of your t-shirt. “And if I’m hearing right, it sounds like you’re telling me ‘no’…”
Your breath hitches. No, that wasn’t your intention. “I’m not—I’m sorry, Daddy. I just– I just don’t know what to do. I’m not used to this,” you express honestly.
You’re determined to never break his rules for the next few months. You’ve already completed one—which he celebrated with a deliciously home-cooked dinner.
The older man shushes you. “I know, baby. You don’t know what to do without Daddy, hm?” he coos. The words make you feel slightly embarrassed, but it’s true. He’s the only one that has helped you cope with your new—albeit temporary—life.
You let Ari claim the following few words. Whenever he uses that title—Daddy—it’s as if he snaps you out of some stupor, and you realize what you’re doing. But when you use it, it feels like second nature.
“Don’t worry,” the older man says, attaching your name to the end of his reassurance to really grab your attention. Ari successfully grounds you. “Just do what I say, baby. Alright? You don’t have to accept the gifts, but you’ll wear them tonight,” he further explains.
“Tonight?” you repeat. “Tonight. When we go out. I have a small get-together planned with a few… friends,” the mob boss clarifies. "You know, honey, this is gonna be our first night out. Are you excited?” Ari asks, his tone a bit more light-hearted.
Admittedly, you’re much less than excited. You’re nervous—scared. But you can’t tell him this. You don’t want to be a bother.
“Y– Yeah. Of course, Daddy,” you tell Ari. You have no idea what you’re going to do. “I’m looking forward to it, baby. I can’t wait to see you all dressed up,” he hums. He picked the dress for you especially, wanting his girl to feel like a princess. “Me too… Where are we going?” you question.
“My place. You’re gonna love it, I promise,” he says. You nod your head, although the mob boss can’t see you. Ari chuckles briefly. “I’ll give you a tour once the guests are gone. They’ll be nice, but don’t talk to anyone when I’m not there, ‘kay?”
You listen to him gladly. You wouldn’t even dare to look at his other mobster friends.
“I gotta go now, baby. Call me if you need anything, alright?” Ari abruptly says, sighing deeply as if frustrated. “Yes, Daddy,” you tell him. He blows you a kiss over the phone and hangs up.
You always knew that this day would come, but you never thought it would arrive so soon. You stand up on shaky legs and read the text message Ari sends. He tells you to be ready by 9:00, and you acquiesce. You just hope that tonight goes smoothly. And quickly.
The clock ticks closer and closer to when Ari said he’d pick you up. He texted you here and there, responses quick and well-rounded. You resist using your abbreviation and onslaught of emojis.
You take your time getting ready, making sure that everything is perfect. The dress fits perfectly and is absolutely gorgeous. You ignored the price tag, knowing it wouldn’t sit well with you on the ride to his home.
You can’t help but admire yourself in the mirror, though. You feel like the movie stars you’ve always admired in their grand pictures with even larger budgets for the wardrobe, establishing them as fashion icons.
Holding your clutch to your chest, your other hand lightly touches the diamond necklace. It’s a harsh contrast to the simplicity and lightness of your gown. The pink tulle is slightly sheer but leaves much to the imagination. You spin around a bit, too, emulating your childhood princesses.
There is a knock at the door. You take a deep breath and open it, greeted by the sight of Ari.
Ari and his handsomeness. Ari and all your fantasies and weaknesses. You smile at him until your cheeks hurt, but even then, you don’t stop. You rush to hug him, squealing as he lifts you off the ground and presses a kiss on your cheek.
“You’re an angel, baby,” he says once he puts you down. You preen under his careful gaze, his kind words. “You look so handsome, Daddy,” you honestly tell him. You admire the ruggedness he keeps despite his current elegance.
He grins, and the car ride to his place is just like this. You sing praises to each other when the awkward silence becomes unbearable. Ari does most of the talking, while his trusted driver keeps the partition rolled up as classical music blares.
The older man tells you all kinds of jokes. You stare out the window whenever he catches you looking at him. His large hands remain on your thighs while yours are crossed in your lap. So far, so good, you think to yourself.
The drive goes by quickly, and soon, you pull up to his lavish mansion. It is on the outskirts of the city, nestled between tall trees resembling a forest. Ari exits the car first so that he can open the door for you.
You thank him and turn around to marvel at his house. It takes your breath away. You've never seen anything like it. Before you can ask Ari a few questions about his home, he drags you towards the entrance, hand on the small of your back at first, until he decides to loop it around your waist and pull you close to him.
“Don't worry, baby. Just be a good girl, 'kay?” Ari husks in your ear, glancing at the associate who opens the for for the two of you. You simply nod your head, words leaving your mouth as you take a peak inside.
So many people. So many eyes—all of them on you.
You gulp thickly. Ari grabs a flute of champagne from a server’s tray, offering yoou one with a telling glace. You shake your head. Even with all the alcohol in the world, you wouldn’t be able to calm down.
Ari’s hold on your waist grows firmer as men approach and speak to him. Sometimes, he strays to your ass, and you end up choking on your spit each time he does so.
You don’t recognize anyone here, except for Curtis and the other associate that had brought you to Ari the day you reckoned your fate. Neither of them spare you a glance, and if they do, you don’t notice it.
You hold onto the mob boss tightly, scared of losing him. You wouldn’t dare speak to anyone if that happened.
“Everything alright, baby?” the older man asks, once again tilting his head down to hear you better. “Yup,” you breathe out shakily, looking around. You notice that Ari doesn’t return to his normal stature, and then he realize your mistake.
“Sorry, Daddy,” you’re quick to say, and he presses his lips together in a line. “It’s okay. Don’t let it happen again,” Ari warns. “Yes, Daddy,” you diligently repeat, and he presses a quick kiss to your cheek.
Someone calls the mob boss’ name. You turn to look at who the voice belongs to, and you’re greeted by the sight of a man with two barely-clothed women hanging off his arms. You can see it in their faces—the unhappiness, the fear.
Ari can sense how tense you are, and he can sense the way Daniel has been dying to push his buttons all night.
“Price,” the mob boss bluntly addresses his colleague. The other man—the one with a goatee and an ego bigger than the entire continent—simply nods. “Levinson. Nice party you’ve got… Even nicer girl, hm?” Arthur smirks.
You can feel the stranger’s eyes on you, drinking in your appearance. You hate that feeling. You meet his gaze and he leers at your brazenly, winking and darting his tongue out to lick his lips, the action too slow for comfort.
Ari clears his throat to interrupt the moment. Daniel directs his eyes to the older man before engaging in some ‘work-related’ chatter, while you choose to focus on the women he practically holds hostage. Aren’t you just like them? Treated with more class and manners, but how long will that last?
You want to leave, but you know you can’t, and that upsets you. You have no autonomy, and for some reason, this finally upsets you after about a month of living in Ari’s precarious arrangement.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be,” he suddenly ends the conversation, snapping you out of your reverie.
Ari drags you away from the watchful, prying eyes of others. You can barely keep up with his pace.
“W– Wait, Daddy!” you call to him, but he doesn’t listen. Ari leads you up a set of stairs, and the amount of bodyguards lessen with each step, until there is no one left except for you two.
“What was that? Hm?” the mob boss questions angrily, pushing you into his personal bedroom. No one else has ever been inside it before—not even his past girlfriends.
“I– I don’t understand,” you stutter, panting as you try to catch your breath. “Really? I saw you gawking at Price,” Ari disproves. You furrow your brows. “I wasn’t! I would never,” you promise, placing your hands on his chest to placate him as best as you can.
Ari doesn’t shrug off your touch, but he does look away from you. “Please, Daddy. You have to believe me,” you continue. Ari looks back to you, and he sighs. “Promise?” he asks.
There isn’t much light in the room, save for the lamps in the corners. But you can still see the darkness of Ari’s eyes, and while it should frighten you, you can feel your panties dampen at the sight.
“Promise, Daddy,” you repeat. For added measure, you press a kiss on his nose, ready to pull away with a smile. But Ari’s hands quickly grab your face, cupping your cheeks and keeping you in place. “Daddy?”
The older man doesn’t say anything. He pulls you close and captures you in a rough kiss. It appears to be passionate, yet it screams ownership. You don’t know the difference—how could you? It feels right, it feels like what you owe the mobster. At least part of your debt, anyway.
When Ari finally pulls away, you can barely breathe. He doesn’t say a thing, and neither do you. Instead, he pushes you towards the bed, and you fall back with an ‘oomph.’
“W– Wait, Daddy–” you start, trying to sit up. Ari shushes you, pushing you back down with a small motion once he climbs on top of you. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” he pants, grabbing your body and flipping you onto your stomach. Ari manhandles you with ease.
You nod your head and try to wriggle out of his grasp. It’s all moving too fast for you. “Stay still. Let Daddy make his baby feel good,” he demands, his voice hard enough to will you to listen. You still beneath him.
“Attagirl,” Ari chuckles, pulling the skirt of your dress above your ass. It was already a bit shorter than you’d like, but now everything is exposed to him. The cold air on your ass makes goosebumps rise on your skin. You shiver at the sudden cold.
“Fuck, this ass is perfect,” Ari growls, grabbing a handful of the supple flesh. He lands a sharp smack to your butt, and you gasp at the contact. It stings at first, but as the feeling dies away, you realize that you enjoy it. You grow shy with shame. “I’m gonna ruin you, princess.”
His words seem like a promise, but they sound like a threat.
“Don’t you think we should take it slow, Daddy?” you ask him, voice a pitch higher out of fear. Fear of him? Fear of his answer? “I’ve taken it slow, honey. I’ve been a gentleman,” Ari assures you.
He isn’t wrong, but you’re not sure if you agree with him. It’s only been a month. You haven’t known him that long.
“But this wasn’t a part of the deal,” you protest one final time. You’re quieter this time around, and Ari pauses in his tracks. There is silence for a few moments, until he speaks up. “It is now.”
That is all he says as he grabs at your panties, ripping the fabric off your skin. You gasp at his actions, and the sound turns into a lewd moan when his fingers find your folds.
“You’re soaking, baby. Like a little whore,” he coos, rubbing the pads of his digits up and down your wet skin. You shudder from the pleasure, squeezing your thighs together when Ari touches your clit. “It’s okay. Daddy loves his little slut,” he professes.
Your head spins from the pleasure, the confession, and the turn of events. Your voice catches in your throat when Ari rubs your clit, sending jolts of electricity throughout your body. He pulls sounds from you that you never knew you could make. They’re music to the mob boss’s ears.
Ari chuckles, as if in victory, when you begin to gyrate your hips to meet the movements of his hands on your pussy. He can feel his hard cock straining against his pants, and all he can think about is fucking you. He hasn’t stopped thinking about fucking you since he first saw you—and that wasn’t the day you went begging to him.
“Daddy,” you mewl, sending a rush of blood to Ari’s dick. “I’m here, baby,” he coos, picking up the pace of his fingers. His other hand plays with your ass, groping and lightly slapping the flesh as he brings you closer and closer to your first orgasm of the night.
The older man makes you see stars. You’ve never felt this way before—not during the late, lonely nights under your covers.
The pressure inside you builds, and your pornographic sounds become louder. The squelching of your cunt nearly rivals your moans. “Fuck, you gonna come, honey? Gonna make a mess on Daddy’s hand?” Ari asks, his words coaxing you towards that brink.
You topple over and cry out, dripping hole clenching around nothing. As if your body is a separate entity that belongs to him, you involuntarily nod your head at Ari’s question.
“Shit. That’s it. Such a good girl,” he praises, the words going to straight to your head and making you smile through your pleasure-filled haze. You grip onto the expensive bedsheets and ride out your climax, grinding on Ari’s hand until the nerves of your clit become oversensitive.
Ari, unable to hold back anymore, pulls his fingers away and admires how they glisten with your slick. The sweet scent of your cunt fills the room, and he has the overwhelming urge to make you come apart on his mouth. But that has to wait for now.
The mob boss places his wet digits inside of his mouth, revelling in your taste. He makes a show of it, too, knowing you can see him in the mirrors that are in headboard of his bed. The sight his lewd—enough to make you throb in need and get wetter with want.
There’s a small voice in your head that sounds exactly like you. It tells you that this was never a part of the deal, that Ari shouldn’t be doing this. You find it difficult to listen to its reasoning, too clouded by lust.
You watch as Ari reaches for the zipper on the side of your dress, pulling it so harshly that it breaks. In just a few seconds, he tears the fabric from your body. You gasp at the display of strength, not even having the chance to bid farewell to the dress.
Your nipples pebble from the cold air, and they rub against the bedsheets, sending a wave of euphoria through your body. “Daddy… Please,” you whimper, rubbing your thighs together as your desperation for something grows.
“I got ya, baby. Daddy’s here,” Ari shushes you, mildly slurring his words. You barely even register that this is the first time Ari has seen you naked. In fact, he never should be seeing you naked.
Ari marvels at your body, although this isn’t the first time he has done so. You’re just so gorgeous, he can’t help himself.
The mob boss begins to undress himself, not caring open the buttons that fly as the fabric stretches against his toned muscles. The velvet suit—one of Ari’s favourites, which he can always get another of—ends up on the floor. The tendrils of hair fall from the gelled style he originally had, framing is face to make the man look more rugged than usual.
He pulls down the zipper to his pants and frees his hard, thick cock from the confines of his boxers. Ari gives himself a few strokes, letting a few beads of pre-cum drip onto your ass.
You arch your back just a bit, giving the older man better access and a better view of what’s his. Ari slaps his fat tip against your leaky hole, sliding it through your folds as he teases you. When he reaches your sensitive nub, your muscles twitch slightly.
You maintain a steady hold on the sheets, bracing yourself for the intrusion. You’ve had sex before, but it was so long ago and an experience that you gained nothing from. You’re always too busy to properly treat yourself. You can imagine that this’ll feel like your first time—only better.
“You feel that, baby? Hm?” the older man asks, bending over you. One of his strong arms is near your head, used as leverage to hold himself up. “Uh-huh,” you moan, feeling how Ari’s hard cock rubs against your pussy. *He’s so big—just like the rest of him.
“S’all for you, honey. You have no idea what you do to me,” he grunts, sliding his cock back to your hole. Before you can respond, Ari begins to push into your cunt, stretching you out slowly. You breathe through the entirety of the ordeal, moaning at the intrusion and the sheer filth of it all.
When Ari finally bottoms out, his heavy balls are flush against your clit. His dick is deep inside you—you feel so full. You take a few moments to adjust to his thickness, getting up onto your forearms so that you can look at Ari.
You tilt your head upwards and make eye contact with the mob boss. His usually blue eyes are blown out with lust—a dark look to him that you’ve never seen before. Ari leans over you even more, his cock still deep inside your wet pussy.
His dominant hands moves towards your neck, and he wraps his hand around your throat after shifting upwards, almost as if he’s holding your jaw. The action frightens you, but you feel no pressure being put on your airway.
It’s the control. The fact that you’re his, and he can do anything he’d like to you.
Before you can say anything, Ari begins to fuck you. He pushes and pulls his cock in and out of you. The mob boss hits your g-spot with expertise and turns you into a moaning, pathetic mess. Ari watches you intently, never once breaking eye contact as your mouth drops open in pleasure.
Your sounds are pornographic. You don’t have a moment to feel shameful about them, though. The noises that come from his skin slapping against yours is loud. So is the squelching of your sopping cunt.
“Daddy—so deep!” you cry out, going limp in his hold. It’s as if you can feel him in your guts. You babble like a baby, making Ari chuckle. He’s dreamt of this moment for so long, and it’s better than he could ever imagine. “Yeah? Wait ‘til I try that pretty mouth a’ yours,” he whispers in your ear, biting the lobe.
The thought of Ari fucking your face creates a lewd picture in your mind. You’ve never thought about it before, but the way you pussy squeezes his cock tells Ari what you think of the idea. Even if, deep down, you didn’t the mob boss to fuck your face, he would still get what he wants.
“Shit,” you mewl, eyes rolling back into your skull. The older man pummels into your relentlessly, practically abusing your cunt. Ari’s dick is coated in your slick, the smell of it and sweat filling the room. “This cunt’s cryin’ on my cock—you gonna cry, too, princess?”
You don’t really register what Ari is saying, so you just nod your head like the obedient girl you are. “Good girl—always such a good slut for Daddy,” he groans, looking down to admire how your ass ripples when his pelvis slaps against the soft flesh.
You cry out as Ari pumps into you relentlessly. You can feel the euphoria build up, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. “‘S so much, Daddy…” you express through your moans, fuelling Ari’s ego. “Yeah? You gonna come all over Daddy’s fat cock, baby?” the mob boss asks.
Nodding your head, you topple over the edge of your climax. Your sounds become choked and grow even louder. Your pussy squeeze Ari’s dick, creaming around his hardness as you come undone. Ari marvels at the sight.
Your eyes squeeze shuts and your hold onto the bed sheets tightly. You’ve never felt such pleasure before—even at your own hands. It’s like Ari knows your body—and your entire being—better than you do.
“That’s it. Good girl, ” Ari growls, admiring how your leaky pussy just swallows his dick. The arch in your back is mean, but he loves it. He loves watching you take it. His once-innocent princess is now the older man’s whore. All his, forever.
The stars in your eyes dissipate as you ride out your high, coming down from it slowly but surely. It’s hard, though, as Ari is relentless in how in pounds into your cunt. “Who owns this pussy, honey? Hm?” Ari asks. He can feel his own orgasm building up, and he knows he cannot hold back any longer.
“You! S’all yours, Daddy. ‘M yours,” you mewl, and as if on cue, Ari shoves his hips forwards and he stills his movements. His heavy balls clench as he leans forward, completely covering your body with his. Ari holds onto you tightly, filling your pussy with his cum.
Ropes of his seed shoot from his tip and coat your inner walls, filling you to the brim until some of it leaks past his fat cock. He gives a few thrusts just to tease you, smiling when you whimper from the stimulation.
It’s so damn messy where the two of you are connected. Ari has the desire to clean you up, but he knows that your sweet-self wouldn’t be able to handle all that in one night. At least, for now.
When the older man finally catches his breath, he slowly pulls out of your pussy. A trail of his cum follows, leaking out and mixing with your juices. He rolls you onto your side gently, laying down next to you as he watches your face intently.
You have no clue what to say. You can’t even begin to wrap your head around what happened, especially as the haze doesn’t seem to leave any time soon.
A few moments of silence pass. Ari’s hand rubs up and down your arm, moving upwards to cup your cheek again. He drinks in very detail of your face and you watch him, too, just not with the same intensity.
“D– Daddy?” you quietly say, and his ears perk up. “Yeah, baby?” Ari responds. “What now?” you question. Where do you go from here?
“Well… I think you should get some rest,” he starts, sighing deeply and he seemingly fights back a yawn. You agree, but that’s not what you meant. “I’ll get you cleaned up, don’t worry,” the mob boss assures you.
“What about the deal?” you continue.
More silence, and the sound of Ari clearing his throat. The deepness of his voice remains as he speaks.
“I think I may have to extend it, honey,” he honestly tells you, words heavy with disappointment. You don’t really know what to think—you have no reaction, save for the small nod you give him. You’ve come to realize that whatever Ari wants, he gets. And he’s so damn greedy.
You drift off to sleep slowly, accepting your fate even though it was too late the moment you resigned and stepped into his office a month ago. It could be worse, you could be dead, you reassure yourself.
Ari stares at the ceiling and thinks about how time can fly. Soon, those promised months will turn into a year, and then even more. Just like he planned—just how it’s supposed to be.
summary. | The mob boss has an alternate way you can pay off your debt.
pairing. | dark!mob boss!Ari Levinson x naive!fem!reader.
chapter warnings. | NON/DUBCON, dark themes, obsession, stalking, mob themes, manipulation, pet names, age gap, innocence kink, abuse of power, corruption kink, power imbalance, smoking (ari), debt, Daddy kink, control kink, rules, verbal contract, loss of employee, anxiety/fear, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!
word count. | ~2k
author’s note. | series masterlist. here’s part two (finally)! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. any and all feedback (positive) is welcome. no beta, all mistakes are my own. taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY!
When you arrive at work the next day—stocking shelves at a grocery store—your boss regards you with far more contempt than before.
Your brows remain knitted as she approaches you, your uniforms matching, except she’s allowed to wear a sweater on top. You must suffer in the cold, with an aching back and sore arms and legs. She says your name to grab your full attention, which doesn’t take much, what with the boredom that drives you to death here.
“Why are you here?” Lydia asks. You’re confused. “…I work here?” you answer with a slight laugh to your tone, though you aren’t amused. You prefer to just do your job without a hitch.
“You don’t. And I don’t accept volunteers,” she nearly sneers, and you halt what you’re doing. She’s never been very nice, but this is another level. The cans of beans can wait. “What are you talking about, Lydia? Is this a joke?” you question, placing your hands on your hips.
“I fuckin’ wish. Your little mob boyfriend came around last night—said you quit,” she explains, and her words are bewildering. Once the absurdity blurs and the meaning hits you, you start to think. You rack your brain as to who would’ve done something like that.
Ari.
“Listen, I’ve already got a girl coming in later today. The job isn’t hard, s’not like I’m dying for you to stay,” Lydia sighs. Her words are harsh, but you expect nothing kind from the woman who is all too eager to fill her pockets.
“Go home. Don’t come back here,” your boss demands. You flinch from how she spits her words, watching as she walks off to harass one of your coworkers. Ex-coworkers.
You’re filled with ire as you pack your things up and say goodbye to people you’ve known for so long. As you walk home, you think about Lydia’s words. Why would Ari do something like that? You never hurt him—so why would he hurt you?
You start to worry about the grander things, too. You have no source of income anymore, just what you’ve saved. Soon, the bills will come in, and your rent will be due.
You near your home and spy a car parked outside. It’s fancy—an emulation of a vintage Impala. But it doesn’t belong in front of your dingy condominium. You know who owns it.
Some neighbours that loiter outside watch you. You’ve never been subject to their nosiness, and the feeling of scrutiny—the knowledge of judgement—is unwelcome. But that’s the least of your worries.
The mob leader is inside your home, and you have to confront him. What if Ari changed his mind about the deal? And he’s here to kill you? Your hands shake as you open the door, unable to prolong the confrontation. There is no upstairs—therefore, nowhere to run.
You swing the door open to find Ari sitting on your couch, watching the news on your television. He wears another one of his fancy suits—similar to the one from yesterday, but in a different colour. He sips something from one of your favourite mugs and sighs in relief afterwards.
You close the door behind you quietly. The locks click in place, and the sounds prompt Ari to look at you.
“Hey, hon,” he greets, giving you a charming smile. “H– Hi, Ari…” you respond, shrugging off your jacket and handing it on the lone hook. “You’ve got a nice home here,” Ari compliments, and you awkwardly press your lips together.
“Thanks,” you murmur, inching towards the kitchen. It isn’t much—the epitome of honest work. You take the compliment, though you’re unsure how you should feel. He lives in mansions bigger than you could possibly imagine. What’s so impressive about your small world?
The fact that he can turn it upside down—put a dent in it, shake it up, and it wouldn’t take much.
The television switches off, and the mob boss sighs. He stands up and saunters into the kitchen. You never realized how tall he is until now. You crane your head up to look at him, but the intensity of Ari’s gaze is too much to bear. You guide your gaze to the tiles.
“I needed to talk to you,” he starts, and you set the mug you had grabbed onto the countertop. Your thirst can wait. “Y– You have my number, right?” you ask, hoping your tone doesn’t come off as rude. Your voice is shaky with fear.
Ari grunts, eyes never once leaving your face. “You’re right. I do,” he agrees. You never gave it to him—he took it.
“But I prefer this. Being with you—talking to you, not texting,” Ari explains. You nod, briefly gazing at him before resuming your staring at the floor. Suddenly, a warm, large hand comes up to your chin and tilts your head up.
You’re forced to meet the older man’s gaze. For the first time, you note that his eyes are a beautiful shade of blue. There’s even a hint of green swirled into the oceans. “There are a few things we need to discuss. Important things,” Ari tells you.
“Like what?” you breathlessly ask. “Rules,” he says.
The thought of having rules isn’t as insulting as you want it to be. They would serve as guidelines—lifelines, little things you can hold onto for the next few months.
“C’mon, honey. Let’s go sit. I’m sure you’re tired after your long walk home,” Ari urges, guiding you to the living room with ease. You let him do whatever he wants—and that more than pleases the mob boss. But he doesn’t let you sit down.
First, Ari sits on the wingback chair you snagged from a yard sale at a decent price. Then, he pulls you onto his lap. You let out an ‘oomph!’ at the rudeness of his actions. He’s brazen and confident, everything you will never be, even in your lonesome times.
Ari lets out an exhale of relaxation, settling you on his thighs until both of you are comfortable. He holds you gently yet firmly, thumbs stroking your skin to get you to calm down.
“Doesn’t this feel nice? Right?” the older man asks, but you’re not sure how to respond. Your honesty is embarrassing, but your deceit will offend him. “I– It does,” you admit, much to your chagrin.
“Exactly—so why fight it? Why fight me?” Ari questions, and you shrug. You’ve never been good at confrontation. “I– I’m not. I’m just… confused. I’ve never done this before. I’ve never even dated anyone!” you exclaim, though your voice is nothing more than a whisper.
Ari shushes you, one of his hands rubbing circles on your back so that you don’t get worked up. “Shh… It’s okay. Don’t worry,” he tells you, his tone gentle and full of patience—kindness, perhaps even love. The idea is baffling.
“All that purity is what makes you so precious,” he whispers in your ear, nose nuzzling the side of your head. He smells of cigarettes and expensive cologne. “And that’s exactly why I want you, sweetie. You’re… innocent. Perfect. All mine…”
You sigh shakily at his words. They have you flustered. No man has ever charmed you the way he has. “Th– Thank you…”
“I’m here for you, princess. Anything you need, you come to me. Got that?” he reassures, and you nod your head. You doubt you’ll ever ask Ari for anything—but you do have a question for him.
“C– Can I ask you something?” you wonder. The mob boss smiles and gives you the go. “Did you go to my job and tell them I quit?”
A few moments of silence pass. “Yes, and I wanted to tell you this before, but I had to take care of some other stuff,” he quickly explains, but his words are slow and calm. They’re not rushed or panicked.
“You always wake up early, so I didn’t have enough time to get here before you went to work,” Ari finishes, lips pressed into a line, showing just how disappointed he is in himself.
“I– I’m not upset about that,” you clarify, looking down at your hands. “Then what is it, sugar? Hm?” he presses.
The pet names make you feel so sweet in the mind, almost hazy. You’ve always dreamed of love like this—but you know what you and Ari have isn’t love. You’ve always been naive, but you’re a realist.
“What am I supposed to do? I need money to live, Ari,” you say almost incredulously. Ari’s smile grows like he’s holding back a secret that he’s been dying to tell you.
“I told you not to worry about these things, honey,” he chides. “I’ll take care of you—as long as you follow the rules,” Ari warns, but he remains kind. So far, in your eyes, the benefits are all too enticing.
Will the rules be the other shoe that’s been waiting to drop? No, impossible—Ari is too kind to be so cruel.
“What are the rules?” you ask him. “They’re pretty simple, nothing you need to worry your little head about,” Ari coos, making you feel much more relaxed.
“Firstly, you always have to look at me when I’m speaking to you,” he begins, spreading his thighs out just a bit as he settles further into the chair. You mindlessly nod before catching yourself and correcting your error.
You reluctantly make eye contact with Ari, which bears to be too much, so you settle for staring at the beauty marks littered across his face.
“Good girl,” he hums. The praise makes you feel warm on the inside—safe, even in the arms of the most dangerous man in the city.
“Secondly,” Ari resumes, eyes remaining locked with yours. You take the time to admire the little details on his face. The freckles and beauty spot, the grey hairs in his beard, and the battle scar on his forehead slightly covered by his long locks. “You don’t call me ‘Ari,’ baby. It’s ‘Daddy’ from now on.”
The question of why—and even a negotiation to have this rule only apply behind closed doors—fizzles on your tongue. Instead, you acquiesce.
“Yes… Daddy.”
Ari lets out a small growl at your words. You actually saying the word is much better than he ever imagined. The mob boss can feel blood rushing to his cock, but he wills himself to stay strong. Not yet—it’s too soon, he thinks to himself.
“Thirdly, honey,” he continues, voice laboured and a bit gruff. “You’re not allowed to tell me ‘no.’ Ever.”
Ari firmly lays down the third law, leaving no room for your freedom. You can feel your independence slipping away, but you reassure yourself. It’ll only be for a few months. Perhaps this is for your own good. Yes, that’s it.
“Okay…” you whisper under your breath. Ari ignores your slight mishap. He knows you’ll return to being his perfect girl in no time. He understands—ever the kind man.
“Lastly—and most importantly—is that you must always listen to me, no matter what,” he gently adds. Ari runs his hands up and down your back, soothing you from how he’s completely changed your world. “Got it all, baby?” the older man asks.
You hesitate before nodding. “Good girl,” Ari coos, and you can’t help but smile. He’s sweeter than you believed. “Now, I could make you sign a contract,” he sighs, his gentle face morphing into one that looks stressed, perhaps even disappointed. There is a pang in your heart.
“But I trust you. Don’t ruin that.”
A threat hangs in the air, but you’re too grateful to see it. Ari knows this all too well, and he can’t help but feel pride over how he managed to get you to fall into his lap. What would a girl like you ever do without a strong man like him by your side? Not much, that’s what.
“I won’t, Daddy. I promise,” you eventually break the silence, and you’re gifted with Ari’s knee-buckling smile.
summary. | The mob boss has an alternate way you can pay off your debts.
pairing. | dark!mob boss!Ari Levinson x innocent/naive!fem!reader.
chapter warnings. | NON/DUBCON, dark themes, obsession, stalking, mob themes, manipulation, pet names, age gap, innocence kink, abuse of power, corruption kink, power imbalance, smoking (ari), drinking (ari), debt, Daddy kink, anxiety/fear, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!
word count. | ~1.5k.
author’s note. | here it is! this series is a continuation of the dark!mob boss!ari drabble that i posted for my Dark Concepts (2023) event. please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog! any and all feedback (positive) is welcome. no beta, all mistakes are my own. taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY!
The weight of the debt sits heavy on your shoulders, dragging you down. It’s the source of your worries, the thing that makes you sick when you wake up and realize your dreams haven’t come true just yet.
You find it hard to breathe as one of Ari’s associates leads you to the leader’s office. You don’t know this man’s name, but you notice that he walks with such confidence that you wonder if you’re headed to the lion’s den, only now taking your final steps and breaths.
You also note that the man doesn’t keep a hand on his gun as usual. You clearly aren’t a threat—what could a little thing like you do to the big, bad mob boss?
Nothing, that’s what. Ari Levinson is untouchable. No one dares to cross him, and the ones that do always end up at the bottom of the nearest river or mailed piece-by-piece to their family members.
The man knocks on the door a few times, and the sounds are arranged in a way that sounds like a pattern. You force yourself to forget it immediately. The man blocks you from seeing the handle and keys in a code. You take this moment to look around the hallway.
It’s ornate—elegant. The carpet is clean, and beautiful pieces of art hang on the walls. This isn’t what you expected. You pictured water stains and the smell of blood and rotting bodies. Instead, your nostrils are filled with the scent of cigarette smoke and sandalwood.
The door opens, and the associate nods his head, motioning you to enter. You do as he says with shaking legs, knees on the verge of buckling from fear.
Ari Levinson welcomes you in and ushers you to sit wherever you’d like, and you relieve your trembling limbs when you sit in front of his oak desk. The chair is comfortable—nice and soft. The set it came in is probably worth half as much as what you owe the mob boss.
“Do you need anything to eat or drink? I can make some coffee or tea,” he offers. “N– no, thank you, sir,” you nearly whisper, scared and, therefore, quiet. Ari gives you a smile as he rubs his beard, flashing the tattoos, scars, and rings that decorate his hand.
You don’t have a chance to gander what the ink represents. The amount of people he has killed would be too permanent and on the nose. He’d have to change that one daily.
“Shy, aren’t ya? Don’t worry. I don’t bite unless you ask me to,” he chuckles, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. You can spy smoke swirling from an ashtray, a cigarette freshly put out sitting inside. You bite your tongue as the urge to rattle off all the reasons why it’s bad for him comes up. He’d probably shoot you just for that, right?
“So, what did you need to talk about?” Ari starts for you, and for a second, you forget why you’ve come here. Your nerves have always made you absentminded. It’s a terrible issue you’ve suffered from since you were taking tests in school. You search for words to form thoughts.
The debt. A few beats of silence pass as you try to prepare your speech, and Ari watches you intently the entire time. He is unmoving. He only smiles when you make eye contact with him or sip his whiskey. “You want something from me? You gotta ask nicely,” he eventually adds.
“S– Sir, I never knew my family owed you money,” you begin, taking a deep breath. “Of course you wouldn’t, baby. That was many years ago, and I doubt an innocent thing like you knows what goes on around here,” he grins.
“Yes, well, I was hoping I could have some more time to pay it off. I don’t make much at my job, but I promise I’ll get you your money back,” you explain, hands flying out of anxiety. Ari hums as if considering your offer.
It isn’t the first time he has heard something like this, but it is the first time a sweet girl like you has come begging before him. Usually, it’s men who should know better or women who think they’re well aware of what they’re dealing with.
“The interest is a bit much, but I can handle it. Please, I just need some more time,” you plead, and you wonder if you’ve spoken too much. Or perhaps your request is too outlandish. Either way, you worry that you’re doomed.
There is more silence and then a deep sigh from the burly man in front of you.
“You make a good case for yourself, pumpkin,” he tells you. You look at Ari, raising your gaze from your lap, where your thumbs twiddle. “But now that I think about it, I really don’t need your money. I have more than enough of my own, anyway,” Ari snickers.
You force a smile. You wish you were in that position where you didn’t have to worry about making ends meet daily. He mirrors your grin, but the mob boss’s seems genuine.
“I– I’m sorry, sir. I don’t quite understand,” you admit to him sheepishly. Ari coos at you. “That’s alright, bunny. What I’m saying is that you don’t have to pay the loan back,” he says, and you’re filled with elation. Your body feels lighter, and you wonder if this is another one of your dreams.
You could nearly jump for joy, but you know you should restrain yourself in front of the city’s most dangerous man. Instead, you settle for grinning until your cheeks hurt and giggling. “Oh, my. Thank you so much, sir! That means the world to me—you don’t understand,” you cheer.
Ari chuckles at your happiness before the smile on his face fades. “But that doesn’t mean you can just walk away freely, baby,” he tells you, and you can feel your bubble bursting. Is this it? The end of your life? Your smile drops, and your heart beats faster.
“Don’t worry, your punishment won’t be anything bad. In fact, you’ll probably end up loving it as much as me,” Ari continues, and he stands up. Your neck cranes as you watch him, never fully understanding his… enormity until now.
Ari walks towards you and kneels in front of you. He places his warm, rough hands on your knees. These hands have been stained with blood, and they’ve also been wrapped around his cock as he has thought dirty things about you.
“You’ll be my perfect little plaything for the rest of the year. No ifs, ands, or buts. Unless you want me to add to your debts… Increase your interest?” Ari threatens, and you’re quick to shake your head. You’re not sure what the position entails, but you hope it’s much better than being tortured or picking up more shifts to give each penny to the burly man.
“Good girl,” the older man coos. “I’ve been dying to have you on my arm, angel.”
Ari grabs your hands and pulls them to his face. You don’t fight him. Your body is malleable under his touch—it’s like you’re in some kind of a reverie. He presses chaste kisses to your knuckles, rubbing your fingers gently as his gaze does not waver.
You can’t help but wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. Ari knows this—and he also knows that no matter what, his voracity—his need for you—would have been met, whether you like it or not.
The journey home is a blur. You’re not in your body, simply a ghost stuck in a machine. When you go inside, you peer through the sheer fabric of your curtains to see the car speed off. Ari insisted a driver take you wherever you’d like—of course, not out of his turf.
Ari. Your phone feels heavier than usual. He took it from you and added his name as a priority contact. Well, not his name, but Daddy. The title is accompanied by a lone heart emoji, nothing pink or vibrant. Dark, just like his soul. You want to laugh at the cliché but restrain yourself from doing so.
You sit on your couch and let out the shaky breath you never realized you were holding. Oddly, the tears don’t come, even though your throat burns with a loud sob ready to be unleashed. You know you should be thankful—it could be worse, you could be dead—but you don’t feel elation.
Ari is nice, right? He was nice to you, at least. What frightens you is that he doesn’t seem to take ‘no’ as an answer. But you force yourself to think positively. Perhaps he’s a gentleman. The next four months will fly by—they always do. You hope so, at least.
