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#jonathan levy fic
melodygatesauthor · 6 months
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Choking in Silence
Jonathan Levy X gn!Reader
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Blurb 21 for Melody's 2023 Ficversary Celebration
NSFW below the cut
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“Yeah, I’ll b-be there,” professor Levy rasped to the dean, his cock buried halfway down your throat.
He’d told you to stop when she walked into his office, but you couldn’t help yourself. How were you meant to resist when you were trapped between both his legs and the back of the desk with the scent of his musk surrounding you and not do something about it. You’d tried for a moment, but it’s like his leaking tip was staring at you, begging to feel your lips around it once more, and you couldn’t stop salivating at the thought.
“Wonderful, I tried to get Sandy to participate but…”
Her voice trailed into the back of your mind while you silently, and very slowly sucked and lapped along his length. You felt his legs shaking on either side of your shoulders, a signature reaction of his as he got closer to climax.
You felt his hand on the back of your head and a tug forward, plunging his throbbing cock deep in your esophagus while he pumped every drop of cum he had into your body. You could hear him huffing deeply through his nostrils, doing well to keep himself from moaning loudly.
He let out a loud sigh, “sorry,” he mumbled. You heard him fumbling around and grabbing some tissues to blow his nose. “Thought I might have to sneeze.”
Even if the dean seemed to believe his lie, you knew professor Levy would have some choice words for you later…
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Melody's 2023 Ficversary Masterlist
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Kinktober Day 23
Day Twenty-Two | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Twenty-Four
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Pairing: Jonathan Levy x Reader
Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked
Warnings: Dirty talk; vaginal sex; cunnilingus; fingering; unsafe sex; creampie; breeding kink
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“How do you do that?” 
You frown at his question. You turn from where you’ve scooched to the end of his bed, arching a brow. 
“Do what?” 
Jonathan pushes himself to sit up, smoothing a hand through his curls and taking his glasses up from the bedside table. He puts them on, adjusting them as he gets a better look at you. 
“Talk…Like that," He clarifies.
“Like...? Dirty talk?”
“Yeah.” 
Your brow furrows as you think for a moment, then turn away, taking up your pants where they’d been dropped on the floor.
“I dunno,” You shrug, standing and tugging your pants up. “I just talk.”
“You never practiced?”
“Like in the mirror?” You chuckle, grabbing your bra next. “Like, beta-tested what sounded good?” 
“You could.” 
“I didn’t.” 
“So?”
You consider it as you look around for where your shirt had been flung.
“How do you think when you’re having sex?” You bat back.
“What?” 
“When you’re having sex, what’s going through your head?”
You finally spot your shirt hanging off of a potted plant. You walk over to it, plucking it off of the plant, shaking it out. You turn back to Jonathan, grinning when you find his face twisted in thought, his brow furrowed.
“Do you think, ah yes, and now I’m going to insert my penis into her vaginal cavity?” You ask, mimicking his voice. He splutters a laugh, ducking his head and adjusting his glasses as his cheeks go pink. “You don’t right? You think, I wanna fuck her pussy.” You tug your shirt down over your head, straightening it. “At least, I hope you do.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“What’s your inner-monologue sound like?” You plant your hands on your hips as you watch Jonathan’s expression shift from curiosity to bashful nerves. You can’t help the softening of his smile, or the way he scrubs his hand across his mouth in thought. 
“You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to,” You add, crawling onto the bed on all fours. “And for the record, you don’t have to talk dirty if you don’t want to.” You reach up, cupping his rough jaw. “Just because you’ve been on the quiet side doesn’t mean that I’ve doubted whether or not you're enjoying yourself.” You lean in, pressing your lips tenderly to his, grinning as you feel his lips turning up in a smile. You peck his lips, draw back, then lean in for another peck as his hand comes up to try and grasp your shirt. 
“Okay,” You mumble, scooching back off of the bed. “Okay—I have to go. I’m gonna be late for class.”
“You’re teaching today?”
“Giving an exam.”
“Wait, lemme—”
You watch, amused, as Jonathan pushes the covers back and scooches bare-assed across the sheets, offering, “Your sweater is wrinkled.”
“Of course it is. It took a nap on the ficus.” 
“That’s a snake plant.” 
“I have a spare shirt hanging up in my office, don’t worry about it. You have Ava tonight?” 
“No.”
“Okay.”
“You coming back?”
“You cooking?” 
“I could.”
“Don’t worry about it,” You chuckle. “I’ll grab takeout on the way.”
“You sure?”
“Mhm. Text me what you want.” 
“Okay.”
You dip your head, pressing another kiss to Jonathan’s lips before you turn, heading to the front hall for your shoes and socks. 
You frown when your phone buzzes. You slide it off of the desk, peering down at the screen and biting back a smile when you see Jonathan’s text: 
I don’t always think that I wanna fuck your pussy
I mean I always want to, but that’s not how it goes through my head 
You glance up, gaze sweeping the testing students before hurriedly typing:
What does go through it, then? 
It depends on what we’re doing. 
You bite your lip for just a moment, thinking. Before you can answer, your phone buzzes with another text:
Eggplant parmesan 
You only just manage not to snort a laugh. 
Hero or platter? 
Hero
You need a hero? You’re holding out for a hero til the end of the night? 
??
I thought you were coming back right after class
It’s a song
never mind  
I don’t think I know that one
That has become increasingly evident
– 
On the surface, it’s a little surprising, but maybe it’s not so strange that Jonathan has asked you about dirty talk, or that he’s thinking about it. The separation isn’t so new, and while Mira is still a raw subject for him, you’ve been more than happy to help Jonathan explore a little. 
He doesn’t always come right out with it like he had that morning—he doesn’t always just ask. Sometimes, he has to work up to it, or you have to tease it out of him. You don’t mind. You know that he’s not making it a guessing game on purpose. 
You look at Jonathan across his dinner table, smiling as you catch him sucking sauce off of his thumb. His gaze flickers to yours, lips pulling into a wider smile when he catches you looking. 
“I looked up that song,” He says. 
“Oh yeah? You like it?” 
“I didn’t realize it was in Shrek 2.” 
“I can’t believe you’ve seen Shrek 2.”
“Ava watched it once or twice.” 
“Ah. Makes sense.” You look down at your food, poking at it with your fork for a moment. “Do you wanna talk about it?” You offer after a moment. 
“Talk about what?” 
“About what I say when we fuck.” You smile wickedly as Jonathan splutters into his glass of wine. He clears his throat, giving a small shake of his head as if that’ll help clear it. You rest your chin on your hand, waiting patiently as Jonathan leans back in his seat, adjusting his glasses. 
“Uh…” 
“We don’t have to,” You tack on. 
“No, I know. I know.” He meets and holds your gaze for a moment. “Is it just like…A stream of consciousness for you?” 
“Sometimes,” You nod, “I mean…Well, most of the time. But occasionally I’ll work in a phrase or two because you seem to like it.” 
“Like what?” 
“Mmm…” You trail off, eyes flicking to the ceiling as you think about it. “Stuff like…You feel so fucking good…Your cock is so thick…I don’t know, sometimes I use this tone that you seem to be into.” 
“Can you demonstrate it?” 
“I don’t want you to get hard before we’ve done the dishes. Might turn around to find you humping the counter.” 
“Okay,” Jonathan chuckles, scrubbing his hand over his flushing cheeks. You grin, pushing your chair back and rounding to the sink to set your empty dishes down. 
“Want some more wine?” You ask. 
“Uh—Sure, thanks.” 
You take up the empty bottle from the counter, bracing your hand on the back of his chair and murmuring your thanks as he sets his hand on the stem of the glass to hold it steady. You lean over him, purposefully letting your shirt slip down. You bite back a smile as you feel Jonathan glance surreptitiously in your direction. You swipe your tongue along your lips, glancing toward the wine glass to ensure you don’t spill. 
“Just like that?” You murmur, using the tone that Jonathan always seems to be melted by. You grin as his hand twitches, a few of the drops sloshing over onto his fingers. You chuckle softly, straightening and setting the bottle of wine aside. 
“That’s the tone,” He mutters. 
“Yes it is,” You smile smugly, rounding the table and sitting back down. 
--  
You roll your hips down against Jonathan’s, shivering as his beard rasps against your neck. 
You really did settle in with the intention of watching a movie (a book you’ve given your students to read that was recently re-adapted—you want to be able to spot any inconsistencies between the book’s content and the movie’s). You’ve managed to make it about halfway through, but you’ve gotten a little…Distracted. 
Jonathan had started it. Well, he’s made a comment a time or two that he’s working on that, that he wants to be the one to make overtures. You don’t mind—hell, you approve. It’s thrilling to feel him smooth his hand up your thigh, for him to dip his head and press a kiss to your jaw. He dips his fingers between your thighs, leaving you with no doubt of his intentions. Now, you part your lips in a moan as Jonathan’s tongue sweeps across yours. You let your eyes slide closed, your fingers slipping up into his hair as he breaks the kiss with a slick suck, drawing his mouth away. He turns his head, beard roughly brushing your cheek. 
“I wanna fuck you.” 
Your jaw drops as you suck pull in a shocked little breath. Those four little words from that warm, husky voice are a shock to the system. It’s like the firing of a starting pistol, the first punch thrown in the name of the revolution. Your grip tightens on his hair, holding his head prone as you tip your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark with want, but you can see the spark of flighty nerves there. You brush your lips against his, murmuring, “Then fuck me, Levy.” 
--  
You’re undressed by the time the two of you reach his bedroom. He’s nearly there—shirtless, with his pants and underwear nearly tripping him up as you scooch back onto his bed. You watch him tug the offending garments down, and he drops to his knees so suddenly that you think he’s fallen. Instead, he grasps your hips, yanking you to the edge of the bed before he buries his face between your thighs. You groan at the feeling of his beard raking across your sensitive flesh before his tongue lashes across your clit. You reach down, running your fingers through his mussed curls as you let your thighs splay. You raise your other hand, groping and thumbing your nipples as your hips roll down against his desperate lips. 
Jonathan smooths a hand along your inner thigh before teasing his finger over your opening. He eases it inside as he lifts his chin, his tongue sweeping across your clit on the upstroke. 
“You taste so fucking good,” He groans, pumping his finger in shallowly before twisting and curling it.
“You make me wet, Jonathan,” You murmur, squeezing down around his finger. “I love how your beard feels—Oh,” You sigh watching Jonathan brush his beard against your thigh as he eases in another finger. “You always know what I need, don’t you…You take such good care of me.”
Jonathan groans against you, sucking a messy kiss to your cunt as he thrusts his fingers into you. You can feel the familiar pressure building, and you reach down, curling your fingers around his wrist to still him. 
“I thought you were going to fuck me,” You remind him haughtily. He turns his head, biting your inner thigh harshly, holding your thighs lightly as you jump slightly at the sting. He laps across the skin before he rises, shoving your legs wide. He plunges into you with a single stroke, and your mouth falls open, stunned at the sudden shift. 
“So impatient,” He barks as he grinds his hips forward. “I should’ve made you beg.” 
You whine, raising your hands and grasping his arms as he braces his hands on the bed. 
“I need you to trust me,” He adds, gaze heavy on yours. 
“I do—oh, god, I do, Jonathan.” 
“Yeah? Trust me to take care of you? To give you—nngh,” He pushes out a snarl, “Give you what you need?”
“Yes!”
“Tell me what you want.” 
“I want you to make me cum, Jonathan.”
“Want me to fill you up?”
“Yes—”
“Fuck a baby into you?”
Your jaw drops as his grasp on you tightens, his hips sawing more harshly, the sound of your slapping flesh filling the room. Your cunt clutches at him, your nails sinking into his muscles. 
“You want that?” You ask, breath catching in your throat as he bows closer.
“I want it,” He groans against your neck, knees digging into the mattress. “I want you round with my child. I want—Fuck—I want you full of my seed, I want you covered in it.”
“Oh, my god,” You whimper, fisting your hand in his hair as your chest presses up against his.
“Your p-pussy—” He nearly trips over the word, “Feels so—Mm, so fucking good…”
“Yes,” You breathe. “Jonathan, ‘m so close.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm, mhm. I wanna cum.”
“Say please.”
“Please,” You lower your hand, grasping his ass and tugging him closer. “Please let me cum, Joanthan—Oh, fuck, fuckfuckfuck!” You gasp as your press up into his thrusts, chasing your orgasm as it swells and washes over you. 
You peer up at Jonathan and find him watching you, his lips parted with a lusty moan as he cums. His hips pump sharply as he fills you, his hands digging into your thighs as if he needs to keep you there. It’s another moment before he pulls out, flopping onto the bed beside you. His arm curls around your middle, his face pressing into your shoulder as he draws in deep, steadying breaths. You raise your hand, combing gently through his greying curls as the two of you come down together. 
"...Any notes?" He mumbles bashfully after a few moments. You shake your head, gaze trained on the ceiling.
"Honestly, Levy? Not one."
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sweetly-yours-and-mine · 10 months
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Summary: B reading and A watching with their chin on B's shoulder
Pairing: Jonathan Levy x Reader
Warnings: boring dialogue?, probably me self-inserting in the self-insert i wrote
Word Count: 944
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When you enter the bedroom, Jonathan can tell immediately that you've been crying. There are tear tracks on your face, and your breath, usually his anchor during his asthma attacks and like the flow of the river, comes in short little tides of gasps. You're trying to calm down but he doesn't think it's working. 
Letting his book fall face-open on his chest, "What's happened, baby?" He’s chewing away at some Nicorette gum, absent-mindedly, the repetitive motion keeping his mind just faintly occupied enough so he can focus on what he’s reading. 
He has a sneaking suspicion about what it was but he doesn't want to belittle you and assume things. 
"Nothin'," you give him a weak smile, your eyes tired and glistening. Your voice breaks, "I was just watching a movie." 
"Oh?" He shifts up on the bed, resting against the headboard. With his age, he's been forced to put pillows behind his back now, otherwise he'll wake up in the morning with a knot and he won't be able to get out of bed without your help. "Which one?" 
You hesitate before looking down at the ground and murmuring, "It's a Wonderful Life." 
Jonathan's not surprised. You loved that one, no matter how cheesy. You'd showed him photos of your college dorm and there was a big movie poster tacked up on the wall across from your bed. 
For your birthday, he'd bought you the colourized CD and now like tradition, you watch it when the holidays roll around. 
And like tradition you break down into tears at the end of it. 
To my big brother George, the richest man in town. 
"It's summer, honey, what are you doing watching a Christmas movie?" 
You shrug, coming over to join him on the bed. You click into his side like a magnet. "Wanted to watch it again."
“Did you enjoy it?” 
“Mmhm.” 
He shifts and moves down again, his book sliding just that way to the left of his body. “Well, that’s all that matters then.” 
Cuddling closer, so that he feels your breath against the sensitive skin of his neck, as it starts to regain its normal music, “What’re you reading?” 
“Oh,” he holds up the cover for you to see. It’s a beaten-down, yellow, almost identical to the colour The Man in the Yellow Hat wore in the Curious George books, though that’s about where the similarities end. “The Life You Can Save. Peter Singer.” 
“What’s it about?” Your hand follows down the trail of his chest, starting from his shirt collar, and rests on his lower tummy. 
You were unlike anyone he’d ever dated after his divorce. You’d been shaped and moulded by your past like him. Craving touch and running away when it was given to you. 
You’d been hurt. A guy you hadn’t named yet but talked about sometimes, just enough so Jonathan would be able to tell just what kind of accommodation you were asking of him. 
The first time Jonathan kissed you, you didn’t even give him a chance to say good night before you were gone, the lock turning sounding like the door of a coffin closing. 
Though that had been three years ago. 
Now, you tuck your head into his neck and touch his tummy. Sometimes, you get a little scandalous and run your hands up his inner thighs. 
But always in private, always alone, sharing your solitude with Jonathan. 
“The morality of people knowing about poverty and doing nothing to stop it,” he says, flipping through the pages with his thumb at the edge of the book, before he closes it and hands it over to you. 
You take it with a frown, and for a few moments, you go quiet as you read the back of it. “Is this for one of your classes?” 
Jonathan’s just glad that you’re not thinking about the movie anymore, even if you claimed to enjoy it, he doesn’t like seeing you unnecessarily cry; another little of those funny knacks leftover from Mira, like when you stay the night at someone else’s and they tour the house, teaching you how to handle every temperamental doorknob and tap. 
“Yeah, Intro to Ethics.” 
“I didn’t know they had you teaching junior-level courses again.” 
You place the book back on his chest, replace your hand where it rightfully belongs. 
He shrugs, “I taught it a couple times during my postdoc…just trying to refresh my mind. Update the content a bit.” 
With a little sigh, “I wish I had professors like you when I was in college.”
“Yeah,” he laughs. He cups the back of your head with his hand, “I do too.” 
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your reading.” 
He shakes his head, “It’s alright.” 
But Jonathan hears what you wanted to say and picks up his book, flipping back to where he was. On cue, you place your head on his shoulder and tilt up. 
Since Ava moved away to college, Jonathan’s got a lot more time on his hands. He’s finally gotten around to building you that window seat you always wanted, finishing up shows that he’s been meaning to watch for years now. Reading, writing, sleeping, eating. 
He goes on long walks with you these days, pumping fresh, clean air into his lungs and making his attacks infrequent and far between. He hasn’t touched a cigarette or a lighter in months now. 
It’s almost strange the amount of time he gets to spend on himself and you now. Maybe it’s a brief taste of what retirement is going to be like.
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Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.
Masterlist here. Summer Drabbles here.
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strsburn · 2 years
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every little thing | jonathan levy (18+)
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pairing - jonathan levy x fem reader
synopsis - in which hearts are mended
see also - when two broken people meet and find that their sharp edges connect
warnings - this fic will contain sexual content at one point so
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ CONTENT
notes - i am in love with oscar isaac your honor. i watched scenes from a marriage and honestly i think mira was very toxic and manipulative and honestly if jonathan was given a proper chance to heal and move on, i feel like his character would have developed more. that being said, i am ignoring how episode five ended and writing this x
tagging ( my favs ) @wint3r-h3art @tmholland @buckybleu @tom-whore-dleston @crazycookiecrumbles
@giona45-5
"This isn't working anymore." Your fork clattered as your hand went limp from shock, the sound that would normally cause you to wince fading to the back burner of your mind as you stared at your boyfriend in shock.
"W-what do you mean?" You cursed yourself mentally as the last word came out in a choked whisper, your emotions rising to the surface. Dean sighed, chewing on a pasta noodle thoughtfully as he waved his fork around nonchalantly.
"Look, it was fun in the beginning. You know, going out, holding hands, yada-yada, but," he paused to put his fork down, a hand coming to rest on his abdomen as he leaned back to shrug at you carelessly "You're too boring, alright. You don't like to go to parties, you like to stay in and read, you never want to try anything new in bed, honestly, how long did you think this could go on for?"
You can only stare, your cheeks flushing with humiliation as all your insecurities are laid out before you. Dean sighs at your silence, standing up as he pushes his chair in and folds his used napkin over his plate. He comes over to your side and lays a kiss on your cheek, and suddenly what once felt like a show of affection was now a branded mark of condescension.
"Dinner was good babe, no hard feelings right? Don't worry about my stuff, Josh will come to pick it up next week. Alright, later." In the blink of an eye, he's gone and you're left in silence, your shared apartment suddenly feeling too big.
 ๋࣭ ⭑ ⸱៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ ๋࣭ ⭑ ⸱៰ ͘ ࣭⸰
The breeze is a welcome sensation on your heated skin as you relax on the park bench.
It's been two weeks since your cruel and abrupt breakup and you were still reeling from the grief of it all, opting for more time spent at the park to escape the haunting reality.
You looked up as your heard shuffling footsteps, your eyes stopping on a little girl no older than nine who was wondering around without a care in the world.
You waited to see if an adult would come along who was accompanying her but when she remained alone and unsupervised you grew concerned. A park was the perfect place for a kid to be snatched up and you would not be one to turn a blind eye.
Smoothing down your skirt, you stood from the bench and approached slowly not wanting to scare the girl or be seen as a threat.
"Hello." You greeted her. She paused to see who addressed her before offering a bright grin that sent your heart melting.
"Hi." She giggled. You looked around once more to see if anyone had come searching for their daughter before you spoke once again.
"What are you doing out here by yourself kiddo? Where's your mom or dad?" At your question her shoulders seemed to sag slightly as she sighed.
"Well, my mom isn't here but my dad is. I was supposed to stay in his sight but he had to take a phone call real quick, I waited until his back was turned to explore and now I'm lost."
You had to bite back a laugh as she made hand motions with her explanation her lips set in a dramatic pout.
"Alright, well, maybe you can tell me what your dad looks like and we can try and find him okay?" You asked.
She squinted her eyes in thought as she looked at you with playful suspicious.
"My dad said I shouldn't talk to strangers." She retorted. You nodded in understanding, even as you thought it was a false cause considering she had already given you more information than a simple name would do.
You gave her your name before holding a hand out as she shook it firmly.
"My name is Ava." She quickly began to give you a rough description of her dad. Tall, wearing glasses, curly hair and an itchy beard. Very vague but enough to work with.
You held her hand as you both searched for the man who matched the description. As you moved along you suddenly heard faint shouting as a panicked voice echoed in the shrubs.
"Ava! God, where are you?! Ava!"
Ava perked up at her name and you turned around as who you perceived to be her dad came running up. You had to bite down on your bottom lip to keep your jaw from dropping as the single most handsome man you had ever seen stepped into view.
Dark curls decorated with hints of grey lay atop his head, his chin sporting a matching thick beard, equally dark brown eyes framed by gold wired glasses and an outfit of corduroy pants and a button up seemed to polish off the english professor look.
Relief coated his features as he spotted Ava, her hand letting go of yours as she ran to meet him with a hug. You watched in silence as he held her close, pulling back as worried frown replaced his relieved smile.
"You know better than to take off like that Ava, god something could have happened to you." He pulled her back into a hug as she murmured apologies.
It was then he seemed to notice you as he quickly stood up, taking his daughter's hand.
"Thank you for keeping her safe." He smiled, his whole face lighting up with the gesture. You could easily see where his daughter had gotten the smile.
"It was no worries at all, I was happy to help." You nodded as he offered a hand.
"I'm Jonathan, Jonathan Levy. Can I buy you a cup of a coffee as a thank you?" He reached for his pocket as if looking for his wallet and you waved your hands out, abashed.
"No that's okay! That's not necessary." You told him.
He smirked then, rubbing a hand over his beard as he adjusted his glasses and you felt butterflies flit around your stomach nervously.
"Alright well, then can I buy you a coffee just to see you again?"
You were a goner.
  ⭑ ⸱៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ ๋࣭ ⭑ ⸱៰ ͘ ࣭⸰
Your first date went great, Jonathan and you seemed to click just like that and while you were admittedly worried that he was married due to the presence of his daughter he was swift to assure you that he had been divorced for a while now.
He proceeded to open up about his failed marriage and even discussed a time in his life where he had grown so callous with his relationships that he had married again out of necessity rather than desire when a one night stand resulted in a pregnancy. He admitted that through this time he had openly cheated on his wife with his ex, nonchalant about if he was caught or not.
While his honesty was appreciated you were hesitant about starting a relationship due to his previous relationships and the failure of your own, and you divulged that.
Jonathan understood your worries and the two of you discussed a trial run, where you two would start off with small dates to see where things led off and most importantly that you both would be open to communication about anything and everything.
Which led to now.
"Are you serious? He actually said that?" Jonathan asked in disbelief, eyebrows raising so high they disappeared into his curls.
You nodded as you sipped your chai latte, the taste earning a pleased hum as you took another sip before placing the cup down.
"Yup, I was so shocked I just sat there as he proceeded to thank me for the dinner and hightail it out of there." You shook your head.
You and Jonathan had been discussing your traumatic past relationships and how they went down and instead of causing the mood to sour it helped strengthen the bond between you two as you both understood what it meant to move on from those painful events.
"That's such a fucking shitty move." Jonathan chuckled as he took a sip of his black coffee. He proceeded to adjust his glasses and you had to bite back a smile which he noticed.
"What?" He laughed nervously not knowing if you were poking fun at him.
"Nothing, I just laugh when you do that. It's cute." You told him, motioning to how he adjusted his glasses.
His eyebrows furrowed and you were worried that you'd somehow made him subconscious or upset but he looked up at you with soft eyes and a bright smile as he admitted
"That's actually really sweet, I've got a lot of quirks and things I do out of nervousness or habit and Mira always found them annoying or would laugh about it. You just embrace it, thank you." He told you, picking up your hand to lay a gentle kiss across your knuckles and you felt your heartbeat skip.
You hoped these trial runs worked out because you didnt know if you could handle the heartbreak of having to let this man go.
  ⭑ ⸱៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ ๋࣭ ⭑ ⸱៰ ͘ ࣭⸰
Six months had passed since your trial run had ended and you found yourself in a steady relationship with Jonathan.
You both had grown closer since being so open with one another and any fights you both had were resolved easily once you gave each other some space and then talked it out.
Ava loved you and you returned the sentiment and you even got to meet Ethan and Jane who would come over on the occasional holiday or birthday. Things were still tense with Jonathan and his former wife but they remained civil especially when dropping off or picking up their son. Ethan had declared he liked you after you had gotten him a baby yoda toy after his favorite movie character.
You still had yet to meet Mira who would come to pick up or drop off Ava while you were at work. Jonathan had asked if you would rather be there when she came but you reassured him that you trusted him to be alone with her and he had looked at you with such adoration in his eyes you had to look away as heat rushed to your cheeks.
The two of you had yet to say the big L word but you were not worried as you knew you both shared the same history when it came to that aspect of a relationship.
When it came down to it you knew full heartedly that you were in love with Jonathan and every little thing about him. Every flaw and imperfection only made you more crazy for him.
"Hey babe?" His voice brought you out of your reverie and you looked up from the pages of your novel to his worried face.
"Yeah, love." You replied closing your book and putting it aside to show him he had your full undivided attention.
He smiled at that, recognizing the show of respect and held his phone up.
"Mira wants to know about picking Ava up for the whole weekend, she wants to treat her to a girls day." You smiled at the fact he was involving you in such a decision and recognized that at the same time he wanted to be sure you would be comfortable as this would be the first time you would be meeting Mira.
"Of course that's alright. Thank you for asking first baby, tell her she's welcome to stay for dinner as well. I'm making chicken tortellini." You grinned as he punched the air in celebration at the mention of your cooking and nodded his head dutifull, sending the text out.
"Great, now come here. I need some quality Jonathan time." You held your arms out and he obliged as he laid his head down on your lap.
"God, I love you." He moaned when your fingers scraped softly against his scalp and you felt him tense as he realized what he just said. You pulled back to look at him as he avoided your gaze, your eyes softening as you recognized the doubt rising to the surface.
"Jonathan can you look at me please?" You asked softly as he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze.
When he met your eyes, you brought your hand up to brush a curl away from his face, stroking his cheek with care as he leaned into the touch.
"I love you so much, Jonathan. I know it seems soon to say such but there is no other way to describe how deeply I feel for you. I love every little thing about you. The way you rest your chin into your palm when you're sleepy but want to hear what someone has to say, or when you get nervous and fidget with your glasses. The way you listen to soothing nature sounds when you can't fall asleep. How frustrated you get when you have a lecture and forget your notes, every little thing you doubt about yourself or don't like, I love about you because it makes you you. I wouldn't have you any other way."
You watch as his eyes fill up with tears and you catch them with your thumb wiping them away as he sits up to pull you into a kiss.
  ⭑ ⸱៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ ๋࣭ ⭑ ⸱៰ ͘ ࣭⸰
Meeting Mira had been an interesting experience. You could tell she disliked you simply for the fact that you were with Jonathan and the control she once had on him was no longer in tact.
It didn't help that her daughter was smitten with you as was his son and ex wife who got along well with you. The cherry on the top of the cake was the fact that Jonathan was so deeply in love with you that any thoughts he once had of being with Mira were long gone.
You had seen the frustration in her eyes when she tried to flirt with him in front of you and instead of growing angry you only calmly asked that she keep that behavior for someone who wanted it, which was proven true as Jonathan had put an end to her advances by removing her arms or deflecting her remarks.
She had quickly left after that, angrily grabbing Ava's bags to bring to the car as you calmly assured Ava that she wasn't at fault. You made sure to kiss and hug her goodbye as you gave her your number so she could call anytime she wanted.
The two had left after that and you and Jonathan had retired to the living room where you were leisurely sipping on wine.
"That wasn't a complete disaster." Jonathan remarked and you laughed as you set your wine glass down, your boyfriend mimicking you as he turned to face you.
You leaned into him, the two of you kissing softly as you both began to explore one another, your hands running up and down his arms as his grazed your thighs and waist.
He pulled you onto his lap as you panted into his mouth, grabbing onto his curls with force and causing a whine to escape him.
Your panties instantly dampened at the sound and you began to grind on his length through the thin fabric separating you.
"Fuck." He let out when you bucked your hips into him, the contact making his cock jump through his jeans.
He lifted you up and placed you on the couch as he kneeled before you, slowly sliding your skirt down and your panties with it.
He lifted your leg to rest on the couch, opening you up for him as he blew on your pussy, the cold air causing you to clench around on nothing as you whined.
He used his index finger to circle your clit as he pulled your lips apart and kissed you directly on it, his tongue entering you swiftly.
"Shit, oh my god." You cried out as your back arched, your hands clutching at his head as you moaned wantonly.
You felt him smirk against you as he bit your clit gently, reveling in the high pitched scream you let out as he ate your pussy out like it was his last meal.
You jumped as you felt him enter his index finger into you, the thickness of it causing your walls to clamp down on him in pleasure and your walls squeezed around him.
"You like that baby, I can tell by how tightly you're squeezing on my finger. Tell me baby, how am I making you feel?" He demanded as he thrusted his finger deeper, slipping it out to add two more as he thrust them deep and scissored them, stretching you open.
You spasmed, your legs nearly falling from the couch as he held your leg down with one hand.
"Fuck, you make me feel so good, Jonathan. S-so fucking good." You whimpered out as you felt your core tighten sensing your incoming release.
With a pleased hum, he thrusted hard against the soft spot of your inner wall sending you over the edge.
You cried out as your walls clenched on his fingers, your legs spasming as your back arched and your cum gushed over his hand.
He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, lifting them to his mouth but before he could lick what you had to offer you pulled his hand towards you, wrapping your lips around his fingers and sucking them deeply as you whirled your tongue around each digit to collect your release.
His mouth hung slightly open as he watched you and you could feel him rut into the couch as his pants tightened even farther. His cock restrained in the material.
As soon as your lips left his fingers he grabbed your head between his hands and kissed you hungrily, a groan escaping him as he tasted you in the kiss.
You moaned into him and lowered your hand cupping him through his jeans. You grabbed at the waist of his pants and tugged as he distractedly shoved his pants off his legs, his boxers following.
He picked you up and laid you on the couch as he bent over you, circling his cock on your clit causing you to twitch.
"Condom?" He asked and you shook your head as you pulled him on top of you, his weight causing you to moan.
"On the pill." You supplied, he nodded as you pushed a hand on his chest softly to remove your shirt and bra as he swiftly yanked his shirt off and tossed it aside as you did the same, uncaring as to where they landed.
You whined as he gripped your breasts firmly, bending down to take your nipple into his mouth as he caressed the other.
He let go with a soft pop to slap one softly as you gasped at the action.
"I'll play with these later, right now I need to be inside you." You bit your lip at the promise and kept your gaze on him as he lined his cock up and entered you slowly.
You moaned brokenly as he continued to move inside you, his entire length filling you up and pressing against your cervix. You felt like you were going to split open from the sheer size.
"Fuck baby, so tight around me. Can practically see myself in your stomach, feel me right there baby, hmm?" He pressed on your abdomen where a slight bulge could be seen and you nearly came as you cried out at the pressure.
He pulled out slowly, your walls hugging his cock tightly, every ridge and curve brushing against your walls before he thrusted foward hard, his cock entering you in one smooth movement as every inch was forced back inside you.
Your back arched as a choked scream left you and your legs began to tremble as each thrust punched the air from your lungs, his tip knocking into your cervix with each stroke.
"Look at you baby, so pretty spread out on my cock. Practically splitting you open, but you like that huh, got you so dumb on my cock you can't even speak." He punctuated the last word with a thrust as you let out another keen whine.
A sudden ring pierced the air and you whined as Jonathan began to slow his thrusts, his eyes falling to your phone on the coffee table.
He picked it up, his eyes squinting at the screen as he began to leisurely thrust into you once again, the slow motion causing you to buck your hips up into him to get him to move faster.
"Hmm, looks like you got a call from Dean. Why don't you answer it baby, see what he wants." And before you can tell him no he presses the accept button, putting it on speaker and setting it back on the coffee table. You gasp as he thrusts hard, hitting your g-spot with no effort and causing you to clench around him.
"Hello?" Dean's voice rings out and you bite your bottom lip hard as Jonathan tilts his head at you to answer, his hand lifting your leg and pushing it to your chest causing him to slide deeper.
"Y-yeah?" You ask into the phone as Dean calls your name again.
"Hey, I can't find my Yankees Jersey, do you still have it?" He asks right as Jonathan gives another deep thrust that has you seeing stars. You choke as you struggle to form a coherent thought and Dean seems to hear the sudden strain of breath as he calls your name suspiciously.
"U-uh, no, n-no I haven't seen it." He hums and then proceeds to ask how you've been handling the break-up. Jonathan smirks as he scoots you up so that your legs are resting on either side of his, your bottom half resting on his lap. He thrusts hard and the angle now has him brushing your cervix with every stroke, the curls at the base of his cock kissing your clit. The stimulation causes you to moan loudly as you forget about every other thing, including your ex who is now shouting into the phone with confusion as he hears your moans.
"Hey Dean, Jonathan here and I'd say she's handling the break-up pretty well considering she's being split open on my cock right now. Listen." He holds the phone near your mouth as you moan brokenly.
Dean curses, shouting out in disbelief and Jonathan smirks as he hangs up the phone quickly, throwing it on the table as he brings his fingers to toy with your clit.
"Come on baby, I can feel you clenching on my cock. You liked him listening to me fuck you, didn't you?" He asks, your moans the only response he needs.
"You gonna come for me, huh angel? Come on my cock, baby. Squeezing me so tight, can't wait to fill this pretty pussy up." He mutters and the thought of his come overfilling you is what brings your pleasure to the brink.
You cry out as your pussy clenches around him like a vice, his cock fucking you through your climax as you spasm around him, and you moan as you hear a breathy gasp escape him, his cock twitching in you as he fires off a load of cum, pumping each round into you and coating your walls.
He collapses on you as you both pant and your mind slowly recovers from the haze of lust.
You kiss his cheek as he pulls out from you slowly, wincing at the sensitivity of your pussy and you reach your hand out to grab the wipes from where you keep them under the couch cushion, handing them to Jonathan who kisses you deeply in gratitude as he wipes himself off.
"We are definitely doing that again." You say after a beat of silence and he can't help but laugh.
He was so lucky to have met you that day in the park.
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thepaperpanda · 2 years
Text
𝓓𝓪𝔂 19 - A Little Messing Around || Jonathan Levy x fem!reader
Masterlist
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Summary: You are surprised by an unexpected visit from Jonathan.
Warnings: smut (unprotected)
Word count: ~  950
Author: Fenrir
A/N: The prompt for today is: Table Sex
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After getting home, you took off your shirt; wearing just a bra was much more comfortable for you. As loud as you could, you put your Spotify playlist on shuffle and grabbing a spoon, you spun around the kitchen, shouting and dancing to the lyrics; you didn't even hear the front door open. It took him a second for you to realise he was behind you, clasping your waist with his hands. After a few seconds, you came to a halt and leaned back against his chest.
Jonathan whispered into your ear, "What are you doing?"
Smirking, you said, "Enjoying myself, messing around a bit."
Jonathan's hands tightened around you; the way your hips pushed back into his wasn't by accident. “Is it okay if I mess around with you?" He whispered right next to your ear.
Your response was to push your ass back even more into him and tilt your head so he could see more of your neck.
Jonathan whispered "Good girl," before grabbing your hair, turning you so he could kiss, suck, and lick his way up your neck. Your body turned so that you were flush against each other when he met your lips.
As you swiped your tongue over his lips and embraced him, he lightly dragged his nails across your back, making you shiver a little. With his other hand, Jonathan grabbed your ass and pushed his growing erection against you. The hand on your back drifted to your bra. Jonathan removed the clasp skillfully, as he had done many times before, and you stepped back from each other.
As you slid it off your arms, it hit the ground.
When he looked at the fading hickeys on your tits, he thought of the last time he had been alone with you and smirked at the memory.
Both of you moved towards each other at the same time.
Immediately, you reached for his cock, while Jonathan went for your tits; he made contact with your nipples and brushed his thumbs over them, causing them to harden from your arousal.
It was already difficult for you to focus on stroking him through his jeans.
You stopped Jonathan from replacing one of his hands with his mouth on your tit. Your only comment was, "Less clothing," as you discarded Jonathan's shirt.
He quickly undid your button and zipper and pulled down your shorts; you were in nothing but a light white thong. He brought his hand down on your ass, fondling the soft flesh; he then pulled the flimsy thong down around your ankles. Before picking you up, he only gave you a warning glance. Putting you on the edge of the table, Jonathan gently pressed on your chest, and you lay back. He knelt on the floor and spread your legs; holding your thighs, he gently ran his tongue up your pussy. You moaned loudly after he did this a few times and focused on your clit. He was incredibly skilled with his mouth, and you were close in no time at all. As he continued to go down on you, he repositioned himself to finger you. He picked up the pace when your breathing stopped and your back arched, and he pushed his finger deep inside you; he didn't stop licking your clit, making you twitch during your orgasm.
Once he was done, you sat up. "Can I suck your cock?" You already knew his answer.
Jonathan winked and stood up. "Of course you can, baby. You're delicious."
As you slid off the table and onto your knees, you pulled off his jeans and underwear in one motion, freeing his hard cock; you stroked him a few times before licking the head of his cock without breaking eye contact.
Jonathan let out a low groan at the sight. "That's my girl."
You licked and sucked up and down his shaft, tasting cum on your tongue as you did so. With as much of his thick cock as you could fit in your mouth, you moved your tongue around, making him twitch and grab your shoulder.
With the other hand, Jonathan pulled your hair so you stopped and looked into his eyes. Taking you by surprise, he caught you in a kiss, forced you to get up, and picked you up to place you on the edge of the wooden table.
You moaned loudly as he spread your legs wider and made them wrap around his hips before pushing his cock into your pussy.
Jonathan bounced his hips back and forth, making you lie on the table as he pushed on your chest. You were so tight and so wet for him. To deepen the angle he was fucking you in, he picked up one of your legs and rested it against his chest. After a while, he slowed his hips and held you just on the edge of your orgasm.
You whimpered, arching your back more, "Oh, Jonathan, I need to cum."
One of his hands moved up your chest, palming one of your tits as he whispered, "Whatever you wish, beautiful." His pace increased; the table creaked from the force of his thrusts, rocking back and forth along with his movements. He rolled his head back in an overwhelming sense of pleasure and whispered, "I'm going to cum."
"Cum for me, baby," you pleaded, rising and lowering your hips to meet all of his thrusts.
Instead of cumming within your tight pussy, Jonathan withdrew, grabbed his throbbing member, and jerked himself a few times, cumming with a loud grunt on your belly.
Observing his blissful expression, you licked your lips. “I love you,” you told him.
Almost breathless, he replied, "I love you too."
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ninebluehearts · 2 years
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hi! hope you're doing well. if its okay I'd like I'd like to request something where the reader is a student in jonathan levys class and he convinces them to not drop out please, can be platonic or romantic. thank you :))
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Hello! I'm doing well, thank you for asking! How are you doing? 💕
Warnings: Hurt/comfort
There was something about this semester that was just rubbing you the wrong way. The first semester was easy; you loved all of your classes, you were getting decent sleep, everything seemed like a movie. But after the holidays and everything being so cold and dark, you just couldn't seem to fall back into your old routine.
Your therapist mentioned something about seasonal depression, but you barely even remember that session; you just couldn't seem to focus as well as you used to. Therefore making your grades suffer.. Even the Dean pulled you into her office and asked if everything was alright, mentioning how you were once a 'A+ average' and now it was rare for you to even get a 'B.'
You were sitting in the back of your philosophy class and though your eyes were fixed on the board, you couldn't seem to pay attention to any of the writing on it. This was especially unusual for you since this was your favorite class. Jonathan Levy's class.
Though it was forbidden, you couldn't help but at least day dream about the man. Could anyone really blame you? The way he adjusted his glasses whenever he was stressed, how he always licked his fingers before plucking your paper out of the stack of assignments and handing it to you, or especially how he always wore the most flattering outfits..
He was truly a sight for sore eyes.
And that was another reason you wanted to drop out. He already has an ex-wife and a kid and he was twice your age. There's no way you could keep coming to his class and pretending there wasn't any tension between the two of you. And that was what made things ten times harder; You knew he liked you back.
"Alright guys, that wraps up our unit on the history of modern philosophy. Make sure you review the unit's key points and study them well, because we have the unit test tomorrow." Jonathan put his hands up and sighed, listening to the chorus of groans filling his classroom.
You used to be annoyed when people would do that, but now you couldn't help but drop your hand into your hands and join them.
Jonathan handed out worksheets to all of the passing students. "You guys have got this. You've been working hard these past few weeks." But when he got to you, his smile dwindled. "Miss l/n, could you actually stay behind for a moment? I'd like to have a word with you."
You simply nodded, walking over to sit on top of one of the tables in the front of the classroom.
Once the last student walked out, Jonathan shut the door behind them, then made his way over to you. "So.." He began, leaning against the table, standing right next to you. "How are you doing?"
You shrugged your shoulders. "You?"
"I'm alright, thank you for asking. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about your last paper.." Jonathan adjusted his glasses before pulling a printed copy of your latest essay out from behind your assigned homework. "It's not bad. I'll start with that. You have the right idea, I just think that you could do a better job of conveying your ideas through your writing, ya know?"
"Mhm.." You hummed, not trusting your voice at the movement. It was getting hard trying to swallow around the lump of emotions in your throat. You really did try on that paper, but you will admit, it was rushed.
"I can even help you work on this and homework, if you'd like? I just don't want to test you on something you don't fully understand." Jonathan had set the papers down next to you, now standing up straight with his arms crossed, giving you his full attention.
Now's the time. You thought to yourself. But god, you really didn't want to disappoint him.
You cleared your throat, pushing yourself off of the table to stand face to face with him. "While that is very appreciated, Mr. Levy, it will not be necessary.. Considering that I will not be moving onto the next unit. Thank you for your time." You tried to grab the papers from the table, but Jonathan put his hand down on them, pausing your movements.
"What do you mean? Of course you're moving onto the next unit. You just need-"
"I don't think you understand, Mr. Levy-"
"Please, Jonathan." He said, then gestured for you to continue.
You breathed out a sigh, your shoulders sagging. "Right, Jonathan.. I don't think this whole college thing is for me. I'm gonna go home and focus on myself for while.. Maybe I'll come back in a year or two."
Jonathan stared at you for a long time, his eyes fixed on yours even if you wouldn't even look at his. "No."
"No?"
"No." Jonathan said simply, shrugging his shoulders before removing his glasses to clean the frames on his wool sweater. "I can't just let you quit. You'd never forgive yourself and quite frankly, I wouldn't either."
The tears you'd been holding back finally fell, making you turn your entire body away from him. "I've already made up my mind. I can't do this anymore." You bit down on your lower lip, trying to quiet your sobs.
Jonathan grabbed a tissue off of his desk then hooked his fingers under your chin, guiding your face up to meet his. "Hey." He mumbled, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his sweater. "It's gonna be okay. I don't want you to just give up. Let me help you." He held the tissue up to you, a small smile growing across his lips.
You knew what the tissue symbolized.
If you took it, you'd agree to stay. But if not.. Well, you honestly couldn't imagine a world without him in it. So, you took the tissue from him and blew your nose, shaking your head as you tossed the tissue into the trashcan. "I don't know if I can do it.." You mumbled, your eyes fixed on your shoes.
"Hey, come here." Jonathan wrapped his arms around your upper back, laying his head on top of yours. "I've got you."
You wrapped your arms around his waist, your face buried in his chest as you finally allowed your sobs to escape. "Thank you." You whispered, only hugging him tighter.
Jonathan nodded, his thumb gently rubbing your shoulder. The next few months were gonna be rough, but Jonathan would be damned if he was gonna let you get through them alone.
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mariamariquinha · 2 years
Text
Meetings and Greetings (Jonathan Levy x f!reader) - Part 2
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Part 1
Summary: Dr. Ricci was gone... Well, so it wouldn’t be a problem to travel with Jonathan, right?
Word count: 3.07k
Warnings: SMUT, unprotected p in v sex, consumption of legal drugs and a slight mention of Asian religions. This is just an excuse to write smut, maybe, I’ve been pining for Jonathan recently.
Author’s Note: Eh. I have mixed feelings for Jonathan but personally he had so much to be explored, right? This story can be interpreted as you like, but if you ask me, I'll say he's not a very nice guy.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤
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You didn’t search for him and he didn’t search for you. The next day and the next month, every interaction you could ever have came to nothing. Zero on a scale of one to ten.
The reasons could be different, of course, but trying to understand what was going on in his head would be foolish, so you have limited any assumption to your certainties; one of them was, of course, that he didn't see you the way you saw him. It's okay, isn't it? You two had had a few drinks, these things could happen.
But perhaps the reason Jonathan was a constant in your thoughts was the fact that that look didn't seem false, nor did his intentions. He certainly gave up halfway through, which was worse, but you took comfort in the fact that at least for a moment it was real and he did something about it, even if he regretted it.
You would exchange glances in the hallways or during meetings, but he was always the first to break eye contact, running a hand through his beard as if something was bothering him. At other times, like elevator meetings, he would just keep looking straight ahead, never at you and never with the intention of starting a conversation. This was the way things were once again: unusual, uncertain, and unknown.
Anyway, you've redirected your attention to your work. There was a huge funding opportunity for a research you were working on, and with the right incentive, you were one step away from getting a seat at an event in Tampa to meet potential investors. The idea pleased his supervisor, which also helped a lot, so it would only be a matter of time before the 'yes' came.
“Come in!”
You decided to work a few extras for that possibility, so on a Friday, almost night, you weren’t expecting visits in your office - at least not from students or any other teacher who usually stayed so late in the university. It was a kind of demand limited to very unique colleagues like Dr. Lincoln, but it was also unlikely that she would step out of her duties for a conversation.
What was most surprising, however, was that you looked up and saw Jonathan standing in the doorway with both hands in his pockets. You stared at him silently, just… waiting for the man to say something, but he stood quiet for as long as his mind allowed him to formulate a phrase.
“... I’ve heard you’re going to Florida.”
Oh. That.
“Who told you?” You just needed a shrug of his shoulder to get the memo. You sighed at the realization. “Well, I’m not sure if it’ll happen yet. There’s a few things to decide.”
“I thought maybe we could talk... about the trip, of course.”
“What about it?” Your attention was already back on the papers in front of you.
“If I'm right, you're going with two other professors, aren't you?”
“Yes.” You made a line on the sheet. The student confused Confucianism with Shintoism.
“One of them won't be able to go anymore.”
“Dr. Ricci, I know. Looks like his wife just had the baby.” A check sign. The same student knew who Confucius was.
“So you know I'm going to replace him.”
Your hand movements stopped abruptly, as did your reading of ‘contemporary Asian mythology’, and for a moment the pen hovered over the paper as you processed the information with brief blinks. When you looked up, Jonathan was staring at you curiously, standing practically in the middle of the room and waiting for a reaction.
“... Nice.”
“Don’t do that.” He was so certain about his words, holding a stern expression on his face and practically scolding you.
“Do what?”
“I need to know if this situation is uncomfortable for you. Pretending doesn't help at all.”
“And why do you think I would be bothered by your presence on the trip?” The worst part was how the two of you were keeping a reserved tone of voice, almost like you were talking about the weather or something. Well, coming to think of it, maybe the fact that he opened and closed his mouth without any answer to your question was the worst part.
Abandoning the pen and the tests was a matter of respect for the students. You certainly couldn't do anything with the gigantic white elephant in the room and that frustrated you a little, making you rub your eyes and sigh.
“I don’t want to talk about that,” Your confession was blunt.
“Don't you think we should?”
“Of course, but I don't think I'm the one who needs to take the first step here, Jonathan.” He looked at you with a serious face. “Like… Yeah, I’m angry. I’m hurted, to be really honest. There's the possibility that I understand that we could both have made a mistake, still that doesn't stop me from being sad about the way you handled the situation.”
Jonathan kept watching your face with curiosity, as if taking in your mannerisms and small reactions while speaking. Analyzing, probably, or calmly absorbing your words.
“I didn't say anything because I thought I crossed a line with you, as a friend and as a man as well. Honestly, I don't know if apologizing will be enough to fix what I've done, especially in the last month, but if it's enough for everything to be okay between us, I’m really sorry.”
“You didn't cross a line if I reciprocated.”
“We can agree that you had been drinking.”
“No amount of drink in the world would make me forget what happened, Jonathan.” Again, more silence, but this time you felt a heat burning your lungs and throat. God, why is he hiding a smile like that? “What I mean is that you wouldn't do this if I was drunk.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Then we can agree.”
“And I didn't forget either. I assume there were attempts, but... Certain things are inevitable.”
Back when you were just colleagues, you never got to see what a flirty version of Jonathan looked like. He didn't do that to you or anyone around you both, so any possibility was down to your imagination. Looking at him in that instant, without the weight of tension on his shoulders and looking at all your visible parts, you thought this was going to be a flirtation. Subtle and tentative, of course, but present.
“I'll see you on the trip then?” The change of subject didn't make him lose face, but he nodded.
“Tampa City.”
He didn’t wish you a ‘goodnight’, nor extended his visit for too long. After the door was closed behind him, though, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes for a few seconds - it would be something else you should forget about.
-----------------------------
Jonathan stayed away the entire trip, more out of respect than pride or anything. You got it. That conversation in the office wasn't about going back to what it was before, after all, and none of it was any kind of reconciliation.
Still, when you returned to the hotel on the last day with a big smile on your face and great news about the research investor, he waited for the other professors to offer their congratulations so he could speak last.
“That’s really great.”
Probably the hug was what broke some barrier present there, and for a few moments, you allowed yourself to feel everything that was happening. His scent, the softness of his blue shirt in the palms of your hands, the warmth of his body so close to yours, his fingers subtly squeezing your shoulders and back. It was like a small commendation for your efforts, something you wouldn't let affect you or give in to whatever affectionate feelings you still felt for him, despite everything.
“Do you already know how you will celebrate?” He left you before asking, hands brushing your arms for a beat before letting them go too.
“I think I'll wait to get home. Get drunk, wear the nice clothes that are in my closet, maybe take a chance on high heels. I don't think it's wise to do that in an unknown city.”
“Smart of you. No doubt they loved your work.”
And for a moment, at least until the evening of that very day, that was all he said. You had the luxury of using the bathtub in your room and calling your parents to tell them the news firsthand, barely holding back the excitement of the news, as if it was still fresh in your mind. Dinner was a blur, even, and you didn't know if your energy would drop low enough so you could sleep before catching your flight back the next day.
It was then, between looking for a good distraction on the TV and the clock striking almost ten, that someone knocked on your door.
“Jonathan?” The question sounded stupid when you saw him standing in the hallway, but he didn't consider it.
“I know it's late and it might seem a little inappropriate, but I got a bottle of whiskey from some folks at the congress and I thought... I don't know, we could…”
“Celebrate?”
That was a bad idea, you knew it and so did he, but the two of you exchanged the kind of look that made it clear no one cared. Because of that, Jonathan smiled and let out a 'yeah' amid a weak laugh, said bottle already in his hand as if the invitation was a long shot.
“You may come in. I hope you don't mind my pajamas.” Giving him space to enter the room, you realized that an old shirt and sleep shorts weren't quite the best choice for welcoming someone, especially him.
“It's okay, at least you told me about the fate of your good clothes.” The grin on his face made you smile. “So… Where do we start?”
You both shared the bottle of whiskey between small gulps and talked about how all the approaches happened during the week. Being more experienced, he shared advice and tips on what to do, which you gladly listened to until the drinking started to kick in.
He was fine, so were you, but then the conversation started to take a turn and soon the two of you were laughing more than being serious. Sharing more memories of your college days was just a detail, of course, and when Jonathan heard about your extracurricular ballroom dancing classes, he gasped and laughed.
“You need to show me that.”
“Noooooo, it was a long time ago! I don’t even remember the steps.”
“They say these things are like riding a bicycle, don't worry. Now give me this and tell me what song I play.” He took the bottle from your hand and already had his eyes on the phone when you hesitantly stood up in front of the bed.
“Do not laugh at me.”
“I would never think of that.”
In the end, the song was a Brazilian rhythm with no lyrics, which seemed enough to remind you of those times. He was sitting and facing you, waiting, which made you close your eyes to get over the embarrassment of dancing in front of the man.
“One to the right, one to the left…”
Your initial attempts to try to repeat what you had learned were kind of frustrating, so you kind of started improvising the movements of your feet, arms and hips. This caused a silence to settle in the room, leaving only the music and the noise of your body accompanying the rhythm through the small space.
“I can teach you if you want.” You said with a low tone and for a moment he didn't answer. “Jonathan?”
“... Sure.”
It was enough for him to be there, in front of you, putting both hands on your waist for you to realize that maybe you didn't have to be so detailed with teaching, that maybe he already knew a thing or another. You smiled, eyes wide and intent on the way his face lit up in the light of the room.
No one needed to say a word at all. He enveloped you with the movement of his own body, going back and forth with grace, pulling you closer as you placed your hands on his neck and then up to play with his curls at the nape of his neck. It even made him hum, burying his face beside yours and flexing his fingers in the fabric of your shirt. You could smell his scent again, this time with the combination of the softness of his hair on your fingers and his beard discreetly brushing your neck.
There was a possibility he sensed your sudden fear, more out of fear that it was happening and you'd be rejected again, because Jonathan held you there, body to body, strengthening the tension by the way he put his mouth to your ear.
“I wish I had done it right with you,” He whispered. “I haven't gone a day without thinking about how it felt to have kissed you that night, how I wish I had carried on, taken you home... There are so many things I wish I had done.”
“Why then? Why you didn’t?”
“Because I rushed. At that moment, you needed a friend, not what I could have offered you if we had gone ahead.”
You didn’t answer right away, opting to massage his scalp enough to hear him grunting lightly against your skin.
“I don't need a friend right now.”
“Good… Good.”
Nothing happened for seconds. He continued to lead you carefully in a rocking that started to get more sensual and the heat in your belly intensified, thirsting for the moment when someone would finally do something about it. Then he discreetly began to place small, wet kisses on your neck, lifting one hand to cup the back of your head to tilt it just a little to the side. You sighed at the sensation, both bodies still moving while you closed your eyes for a second time to let all the sensations fly through you.
Jonathan nipped at your jaw and teasing his hairy cheek on yours, asking for permission. All you needed to do was turn your head to the side, to let him engulf you with a slow and deliberate kiss, mouth open without a fear to make it deep from the start. At the same time your tongues tangled with each other, that same hand lowered to your neck, then your chest, to stop by your right boob to grab it fiercely.
You moaned loudly against his mouth. God, you’re already so wet so fast, like you’ve been waiting for him.
“So responsive,” he teased after biting your bottom lip. “Show yourself for me, baby. Can I take your shirt off?”
As if he needed to ask, you just tugged at the hem of the thing and simply took it off in one swiftly movement. His eyes stared straight at your boobs, watching your nipples erected by his stimulation and the cool of the room. He looked unresponsive for a good few seconds before waking up to reality, ripping his glasses off his face along with his shirt to reveal his own torso. Heavens, he was beautiful. You could spend hours kissing every inch of your skin.
“Come here.”
The second kiss was more intense, the skin-to-skin contact making your arousal grow more at every new discovery between the make out session. With ease, Jonathan could handle you laying on the bed, him on top, without stopping the feeling of his mouth devouring yours. You pulled and played with his hair while he started to go low, sucking marks, teasing your nipples, biting at the meat of your tit.
That thirst to be with each other, the desire to solve all the pending issues of having the pleasure of sex, prevented that moment from being like 'making love'. Jonathan still devoted himself to worshiping your body as he could, lowering your shorts with care until you’re bare to him, but you knew that the necessity of having him inside of you came both ways.
“Jesus Christ…” His cock entered easily on your pussy, making you clench at first but not as a reaction of discomfort. You couldn’t even catch when he took off his pants, being really honest, because all of the sensations of finally having him filled your mind with lust.
“I’ve been waiting so long… So… So long… For you to take me so well. You wanted me that much? Huh? Wanted me to fuck you?” He asked between painted breaths, the thrusts so strong that the bed started to creak and you almost lost your voice to answer.
“... Yes…”
Jonathan still looked determined to savor the moment and make it unique for the two of you as he gripped your hips and adjusted himself between your legs so that you could look at the way you took his dick. He used the hold to manhandle your body, pulling you close at every slow thrust of his and making you both a mess of whimpers, moans and curses. The only thing you could do was held in the pillows while watching his eyes attentively at your body.
Gradually, the two of you began to feel the effects of the lust and the slap of your skins became more loud - he was staring at your boobs again, this time at the way they shaked at the movements. Whether it was the time without sex or the fact that it was him, it didn't matter - you had to cover your mouth on your arm so your orgasm wouldn't be heard throughout the building.
The thing hitted you so much that you just felt him coming on your belly with a grunt as a lapse and the realization really weighed when he leaned down to hug you, not daring to how degrading your bodies were sweating.
“Would you mind if I celebrated with you when we got back?” The question made you whisper a laugh, hands caressing his back.
“It's convenient for you to ask that after making me come.”
“Should I wait until we repeat that again?”
“Gimme five minutes.”
“I would ask for more if I were you,” He gave your shoulder a big bite. “We have wasted time to make up.”
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*These weren’t necessarily written and/or posted in October, but that’s when I read them 😊
🔥 - explicit/mature content
Star Wars
Sunk (Poe Dameron x Reader) - @reallyrallyauthor
🔥An Unorthodox Method (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @the-little-ewok
🔥Kinktober Day 1 (Love Bites) (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @eyelessfaces
🔥Kinktober Day 4 (Sex Pollen) (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @eyelessfaces
🔥Kinktober Day 7 (Soft and Slow) (Cal Kestis x Reader) - @flightlessangelwings
🔥Kinktober Day 10 (Stripping) (Stripper!Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @youvebeenlivingfictional
I just called to say I love you (Poe Dameron x Reader) - @nowritingonthewall
Adore you (Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader) - @dailyreverie
🔥Kinktober Day 25 (Breeding) (Cowboy!Din Djarin x Cowgirl!Reader) (Part of the Gardens of Babylon Universe) - @spacecowboyhotch
Moon Knight
🔥Over the Counter (DBF!Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @melodygatesauthor
Vivid (Marc Spector x Reader) - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction
🔥Shades of the Moon (Virgin!Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @missdictatorme
Boundless (Witch Hunter!Marc x Witch!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch
🔥Price You Gotta Pay (Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction
🔥The Sweetest Sound (Mafia!Jake Lockley x F!Reader) - @melodygatesauthor
🔥The Sweetest Taste (Mafia!Jake Lockley x F!Reader) - @melodygatesauthor
🔥Kinktober Day 10 (formal wear) (Steven Grant x Reader) - @eyelessfaces
🔥Kinktober Day 6 (Phone Sex) (Jake Lockley x F!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch
🔥Kinktober Day 12 (Formal Wear) (Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch
🔥What a Show (Mafia!Jake Lockley x F!Reader) - @melodygatesauthor
🔥La Petite Mort (Ghost!Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @hon3yboy
🔥Pumpkin Porno (OnlyFans!Steven Grant) - @ominoose
In the morning light (Marc Spector x Reader) - @dailyreverie
🔥Nature Boy (Werewolf!Marc Spector x F!Reader) - @hon3yboy
🔥Sleeping Dogs (Werewolf!Marc Spector x F!Reader) (Part of the Dancing with Wolves Series) - @hon3yboy
🔥What A Wicked Thing To Do (Werewolf!Marc Spector x F!Reader) (Part of the Dancing with Wolves Series) - @hon3yboy
🔥Kinktober Day 23 (Begging) (Marc Spector x F!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch
Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse
🔥Couch Sex with Miguel (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @romanarose
🔥Kinktober Day 7 (& 8): Soft & Slow (Cockwarming) (College!Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch
🔥soft s3x and grey sweats (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @wyvernest
Ex Machina
🔥Peak-A-Boo (Ghostface!Nathan Bateman x F!Reader) - @hon3yboy
🔥Perfect Little Fuck Toy (Nathan Bateman x F!Reader) - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction
Sucker Punch
🔥Product Demonstration (Club!Blue Jones x F!Reader) - @melodygatesauthor
🔥Monster Mash (Rockstar!Blue Jones x F!Reader) - @hon3yboy
Triple Frontier
Under cotton and calicoes (Santiago Garcia x Reader) - @dailyreverie
Make this feel like home (Santiago Garcia x Reader) - @dailyreverie
🔥Kinktober Day 30 (Cunnilingus) (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch
🔥Just A Little Push (Will Miller x F!Reader) - @missdictatorme
Scenes From a Marriage
🔥Kinktober Day 2 (bath/shower) (Jonathan Levy x F!Reader) - @eyelessfaces
🔥Kinktober Day 15 (Against a Wall & Voice Kink) (Jonathan Levy x Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch
The Two Faces of January
🔥Kinktober Day 7 (Slow and Soft) (Rydal Keener x F!Reader) - @eyelessfaces
🔥body talk (Rydal Keener x F!Reader) (part of the Oxford Comma series) - @whatthefishh
Misc.
🔥Just A Scratch (Jack Mohave x F!Reader) - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction
🔥Take Care (Anselm Vogelweide x F!Reader) - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction
🔥Service Fee (Llewyn Davis x F!Reader) - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction
🔥If You Wanna Be Wild (Javier Peña x Latina!sex worker!informant!Reader x Santiago Garcia) - @romanarose and @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction (i already recced this but there's more so 🙃)
Thank you to all the wonderful writers for sharing their stories with us 🥰❤️
*For more recs, please feel free to check out my fic rec tag.
**If you’d like to have your fic removed from the list, I completely understand, just let me know
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moonknightyws · 2 years
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He's magnificent.
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melodygatesauthor · 10 months
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Jonathan Levy - Random Horny Thot #1 - The Girl in the Front Row
NSFW
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He'd spent night after night jerking off to your videos online. He watched you, pretty legs spread wide with a vibrator plunged deep in your wet little pussy. He'd fantasized about feeling your walls contracting around his girth, squeezing his cock while you cum over and over again. He knew he could do better than that silly piece of plastic, he knew he could do better for you.
When the new semester starts, and he looks up to see his new class, he nearly drops the coffee mug in his hand. There you are, sitting with your eyes down staring at your notebook and writing your notes. Jonathan gulps, mouth slack open and breathing heavily. Is he having an asthma attack? No...no he's okay...
Professor Levy knows he has to have you, and when all the other students leave, he tells you to stay behind. When you look at him with those big, curious eyes he feels his arousal building instantly. You're so pretty, and his cock aches with a need to be buried deep inside of you. He takes off his glasses and puts them on his desk.
He says your stage name, the one only fans of your work would know about, and then watches the panic wash over your face. You start stammering, unable to get out a coherent thought, and he can see it in your expression so he stands, putting a caring hand on your shoulder.
"Hey, you don't have to worry honey, I'm not going to tell anyone," he trails his hand up the side of your neck and he brushes his thumb against your cheek.
"Professor I-"
"Sh," he puts a finger on your lips, "you've given me so much, let me return the favor hm?"
Within seconds he's got you bent over his desk, door locked, cock buried to the hilt in your warm little cunt. He shudders feeling it grabbing onto him like it doesn't want to let go. He rubs the globes of your ass with both hands, grabbing them and spreading your cheeks so he can watch.
"Oh god, look at you. Thought about this a lot but-oh-fuck-never thought I'd actually feel you sweetheart. So tight..."
You're like putty in his hands, whining and moaning over the desk, holding on so hard your knuckles ache. He grabs your waist, gripping roughly, leaving divots in your skin.
His slow rolling motions get more uneven as he gets closer to losing himself. It's wrong, fucking a student, especially one two decades younger than he is, but he can't help himself, and you feel so fucking good.
In fact, you feel so good that he's embarrassed at how quickly he's spilling his hot seed inside of you, filling you so full you're making a mess of his classroom floor. He's not going to let you go unsatisfied though, not a fucking chance.
He doesn't even care that he's going to have to wash his own cum out of his beard before his next lecture, he's on his knees behind you, lapping at your hungry clit with fervor. You're gasping, breathing heavily while he slurps and eats everything out of you.
He makes good on his promise, giving you one of the same mind-numbing orgasms that you'd given him time and time again with your films in the privacy of his home office. You were such a mess when he was finished that your makeup was running down your face and your stockings were ruined.
"Keep this up honey," he leans in, beard brushing against your ear, "and I'm sure you'll do just fine in my class."
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Any of my blurbs can be used as inspo for a fic. Please tag me for credit. Thank you!
Random Blurbs Masterlist
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Exhale
Pairing: Jonathan Levy x Reader
Rating: M
Notes: Hey look it's the sequel to Breathe that no one asked for
Warnings: Mutual pining; mentions of divorce; weed smoking; angst; fluff; Reader teaches with Jonathan; not beta-read Summary: You’re in a cuddly, sleepy mood. In the past, with other people, that’s made you pretty fricking stupid—moves and passes made, friends and exes slept with, relationships made, boosted, bolstered, broken.
Your friendship with Jonathan has become far too dear to allow yourself to get stupid about him now. 
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You hardly look away from the dishes as you hear him pad back into the kitchen. Jonathan tips his head forward, pressing against the nape of your neck as he groans softly. The ease that he leans into you makes your stomach flutter—and the tired groan he looses makes you grin.
“That was bad,” He mumbles. 
“It wasn’t that bad.” 
“It wasn’t that bad?” He repeats, laughing. He straightens to step around you, leaning back against the counter. 
“No! I mean…You know. It could’ve been worse.” 
Jonathan huffs a soft laugh, raising his hands and scrubbing at his eyes, knocking his glasses askew for a moment before he rights them again. 
“It was excruciating.” He sighs, peering down at your hands before he asks, “Can we smoke? Please?” 
“You’re always so polite, Levy,” You tease, raising your hand and spritzing him with water. He chuckles, flinching out of the way, only grumbling a little when a droplet lands on one of his lenses. 
--  
You’re bundled in your coats and scarves and hats, sitting on the back porch of the house as you pass the joint back and forth. You’ve gotten into the habit of sitting outside, after Ava mentioned a funny smell after one of your visits with Jonathan. 
You lean back against one of the posts of the porch stairway, peering up. The sky is overcast, but the air doesn’t feel heavy, or smell like snow. It was supposed to snow, but there hasn’t been a hint of it. 
“...You’re too polite,” You comment lightly. Jonathan frowns down at you, brow furrowing, his hand half extended to hand the joint back. He’s a couple of steps above you, leaning against the opposite end of the stairs.
“Well, you are,” You shrug. “If you hadn’t been, that whole dinner would never have happened.”
Jonathan huffs, drawing the joint back to himself and raising it to his lips. You laugh a little, tipping your head up to look up at the sky again.
“You’re just pissed ‘cause you know I’m right,” You add.
Despite what you’d said in the kitchen, the evening had been pretty bad. You’d come by to smoke with Jonathan, and before you could get into it, Mira had stopped by to pick something up. You’d passed your presence off as a conference, discussing some of your thesis students. Your pizza had arrived a few minutes after Mira did, and Jonathan had offered (emphatically) for Mira to stay and have a slice. The conversation had been awkward and stilted, with Mira and Jonathan beginning to rise to bickering every few minutes, remembering that you were there, and then backing off of it immediately—Jonathan with a clearing of his throat and an adjustment of his glasses, and Mira shooting an awkward, darting glance toward you, a tight smile on her lips.
“We’re still trying to be civil."
”I know.” 
“So I was just trying to be friendly—” 
“Friendly and civil are two different things.” 
“They’re synonyms.” 
“It’s a slight but important semantic difference.” 
You hold your hand out, fingers wiggling. Jonathan grudgingly passes the joint back over before he wraps his arms around himself, avoiding your gaze. You raise the joint to your lips, drawing the smoke in. You draw the joint away again, eyeing the smoking tip. 
“Alright,” You tack on, voice tight as you hold in the drag, “I’ll shut up.” 
“She’s important to me.” 
“I know that.” 
“She’s the mother of my child—” 
“Jonathan—” 
“We were together for twelve fucking years—” 
“Hey,” You sit up, shifting onto the step beside Jonathan’s outstretched legs, “I know that. I’m not discounting any of it. I’m just…” You shake your head a little, taking in his tight jaw, his bright, indignant eyes. “Maybe it’s because I was there, but dinner kinda felt like pulling teeth, that’s all.” When Jonathan makes no answer, you lamely tack on, “And I like your teeth. Like, inside your mouth.” 
Jonathan huffs out a laugh, head tipping forward to nod a little. You scooch closer to him, sitting on the step just below his, drawing from the joint again before holding it out. He takes it, but doesn’t raise it to his lips. He just twiddles with it for a moment, ashes slipping to his outstretched thighs. You reach out, brushing them away absently before you lean back again, tucking your hands into your sleeves to warm them. 
“We should’ve gotten two pizzas,” Jonathan mutters, “You’re right, we shouldn’t have let Mira stay. I’m hungry again.”
You snort, head lolling to the side to look at him. 
“We? It’s your house, Levy. I didn’t let her do anything, that was aaalll you,” You insist, waggling your finger at his face. “You stay here and puff, I’ll go order more food. Still pizza?” 
“Mm…You know what?” Jonathan pushes himself up, “Let’s make something.” 
“You wanna cook?” 
“Yes.” 
“...Can you cook?” 
“C’mon,” He chuckles, “You’re going to eat your words—and a delicious dinner.” 
“Delicious second dinner.” 
Jonathan pushes himself up and holds his hand out. You take one more drag from the joint, stub it out on the step, and let Jonathan tug you up. You lose your balance as you reach your feet, and the both of you wobble for a moment, clasping one another’s hands tightly. 
“You okay?” He asks, chuckling. 
“Uh-huh.” You keep your hold on Jonathan’s hand, leading the way to the back door. “So, what are we making?” 
“What are you hungry for?”
Dick. 
It springs up in your swirling, dirty mind, and you can’t help but break into giggles. You slow in your step at the threshold, hinging forward just a touch as the laughter makes your stomach hurt.
“What?” Jonathan whirls around, your giggles catching as he begins to chuckle. “What is it?”
You wave him off, but his repeated questioning makes your laughter swell. 
“What aren’t you telling me?” He presses, laughing. He slides his arm around your middle, straightening you. Your steps drag and stumble as he draws you closer, your hands landing on his chest to steady yourself. 
“Noth—nothing!” You insist, just barely managing to catch your breath. You raise a hand, swiping at your tearing eyes before you rest it against his chest again. 
It’s a mistake. You’ve been close to Jonathan, but not quite like this. His fingers flex in your shirt as you calm; his gaze sweeps your face, and your stomach flips as his focus lingers and holds on your lips. Your giggling quiets, and you find yourself somewhat sobered, chilled in Jonathan’s doorway, and warmed by his grasp. You clear your throat, averting your gaze. 
“Everything,” You finally tell him. “I’m hungry for everything.” 
“Everything?” His voice is lower than you thought it may be; it sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, patting his chest once before twisting out of his hold, heading for the fridge. 
“So!” You open the door, squinting at the harsh brightness of the fridge. “What have we got?” You keep your gaze on the shelves as you hear Jonathan’s footsteps growing nearer. It’s another few moments before you feel the heat of him behind you. Your eyes slip closed as his breath brushes your neck, his murmur rasping across your jaw:
“Whatever you want.” 
“Lobster?”
“...Whatever you want within reason.” 
“I think lobster’s pretty reasonable.”
“Do you see lobster in my fridge?”
“I haven’t checked the drawers yet.”
“I would advise you not to get your hopes up.”
– 
It’s pretty easy to sink into cooking with Jonathan. He knows his way around the kitchen, and it’s…Sort of hot. 
You’re almost certain that his knife skills would be a little more refined if the two of you hadn’t just smoked. Still, his hands are steady and sure as he cooks. Talk turns to lighter topics—work, assignments, students, a project that Ava’s been working on for the Science Fair. You avoid your conversation from the backyard, and anything regarding the first disastrous meal that you had that evening. When the two of you settle down to eat, you sit side by side again, as you had when Mira has been there. You don’t have a good reason this time—no excuse to budge up close. That doesn’t stop you. You just sit side by side, arms and legs brushing against one another’s. 
Jonathan seems to wait as you take the first bite. You can’t help but groan as the flavor floods your mouth. 
“Holy shit,” You mumble around the mouthful. 
“As good as lobster?” Jonathan teases. 
“Nope. Better.” 
You glance over to see Jonathan shovel a bite into his mouth, a bashful smile pulling his lips. 
“Hidden talents, Levy. I’m impressed.” 
“It’s a pretty simple recipe.”
“It’s a pretty tasty one. Don’t downplay your skill.” 
“Well. Thank you.” 
“Hell, thank you. Frickin’ good. This hits the spot.” 
You lean back in your seat, taking up your glass of wine and taking a sip as you eye your empty plate. You glance up at Jonathan, raising a brow as he glances back at you. He’s poking at his food, his tongue sweeping his lips. You arch your brow, shaking your head a little  in confusion before you chuckle, “What?” 
“What were you laughing at before?” 
Oh—god. 
“Nothing.”
“You were laughing over nothing? I don’t believe that.”
“You say that like the weed’s never made you giggly before—which I know is a complete lie.” 
“It’s usually sparked by something, though.” 
“It kinda was.” 
“So?”
“It was just a dumb thought,” You blink rapidly, trying to moisten your dry eyes. “I can’t even remember what it was anyway.” 
Jonathan nods slowly before he reaches out, spearing a piece of the pasta remaining on your plate. 
“You blink a lot when you’re lying.”
“What?”
“Your eyes,” He raises the fork, waving it at you. “You blink extra when you’re lying.”
“I do not! I’m so dry,” You laugh. “It’s the weed!” 
“Uh-huh. Sure,” Jonathan teases, smile widening as you give his shoulder a light shove. 
“Shuddup,” You mumble. 
“You staying tonight?” 
“...If I can.”
“Of course you can.” 
“Then yes.” 
“Need to borrow a shirt to sleep in again?”
“Uh-huh.” 
“Alright. Lemme just get this cleaned up—”
“Nooo,” You whine, reaching out and grasping Jonathan’s sleeve before he can get up and take up your plates. “I’ll do ‘em in the morning. C’mon,” You urge, straightening up. “Let’s see what’s on tv.”
“I think there’s a new Ken Burns doc on PBS.” 
“Oh yeah? What’s this one about?” 
“The Edwardian Era.”
“Oh heckie yeah.” 
– 
“Are you falling asleep on me?” 
“...A little,” You mumble. You burrow into Jonathan’s side, pouting when you feel him drawing back a touch. 
“...That’s pretty good,” He mutters.
“What is?”
“You seem to have mastered lying without blinking. But, that’s probably because you’re falling asleep.” 
You snuggle closer, pressing your face into his neck, smiling as his beard gently brushes your forehead. 
“You wanna go to bed?” He adds.
You know he just means to sleep, that he doesn't mean anything by it, but the question makes you prickle with interest. Still, you push yourself up with a nod, and a yawned mumble of, “Yah.” 
It’s become standard operating procedure. You never do this when Ava is there—hell, you never smoke when Ava is there. But when Jonathan’s got the house to himself, and you spend the evening smoking and chatting, you almost always spend the night. 
Jonathan takes hold of your hand, drawing you up off of the couch. He doesn’t let go of you as the two of you shuffle back to his makeshift bedroom. You lean in the doorway, smiling as he tosses you the shirt that you usually sleep in. 
“Thanks. I’ll take the bathroom upstairs.” 
“Sounds good.” 
“I better not hear you doing the dishes,” You warn, heading back into the hall. 
--  
Dick. 
The thought bubbles up again as you wash your face, but it doesn’t make you burst into giggles again. It does make you smile a bit as you wash away the cleanser that you’re using (one of Mira’s, you think—some bottle that she either forgot or didn’t care about when she and Poli came and moved the rest of her things out. It’s lightly fragranced, and more high-end than you’re used to using. You’re dreading it running out—you’re sort of spoiled for other cleansers now).
You shut the water off and take up a dry washcloth, patting your skin dry before you brace your hands on the sink. You let your eyes wander your face in the mirror before you straighten up, clearing your throat and trying to clear your mind. You’re still a little buzzed, but you’re winding down. You’re getting sleepy, too. The nervous adrenaline of spending time with Mira, seeing Jonathan trying to be so obliging and seeming so uncomfortable, and eating such a tasty second dinner is all starting to slow you down. 
You’re in a cuddly, sleepy mood. In the past, with other people, that’s made you pretty fricking stupid—moves and passes made, friends and exes slept with, relationships made, boosted, bolstered, broken.
Your friendship with Jonathan has become far too dear to allow yourself to get stupid about him now. 
Stiil, there you are, climbing into his bed and rolling onto your side. Jonathan is on his back, but he’s watching you. His eyes are still a little bloodshot, and he blinks slowly. Your lips twitch with a smile at a memory, and your turn your face into the pillow. But you’re not fast enough. 
“What?” Jonathan asks. 
“Mm?” 
“What? Why are you smiling like that?” 
“Nothing!” 
“Nothing again? C’mon,” He urges with a soft chuckle. “Let me in.” 
You turn your head to meet his eye again, biting your lip. Jonathan’s gaze flickers, sweeping to your lips, then up again. 
“I was just thinking of the first night I stayed here,” You admit. “When you asked me about the last time I’d slept with anyone—” 
“Oh…God, I forgot about that,” Jonathan groans, head rolling back to stare at the ceiling instead. Your smile widens as you scooch a little closer. 
“And then your chest got all…You know,” You reach out, resting your hand on his chest and giving it a little rub. 
“It wasn’t that bad. It got a little tight for a second.” 
“I know.” 
“I didn’t need my inhaler—” 
“I know!” 
You can feel Jonathan’s heartbeat in his chest. It seems to tick up beneath your hands. You begin to draw your hand away, as though you’ve become privy to something that you shouldn’t feel. But before you can get far, Jonathan rests his hand over yours. The weight and warmth of his palm is comforting, and makes your smile widen. 
“For the record,” You tack on, “You’re the last person I slept with. I mean, you know. Have been asleep with.” 
Jonathan hums thoughtfully, his thumb sweeping along the side of your hand. 
“Still haven’t told me the last time you had sex,” He mumbles. Your brows raise. You wait for a moment for his apology, his justification that he’s still high, his insistence that you don't have to answer, but he lets it hang there. You sweep your tongue across your lips, considering. 
“It’s been a while,” You finally admit. 
“How long?” 
“Why do you wanna know?” 
“I’m just curious.” He tips his head to meet your eye. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” 
You nod. “I know.” Then, “It’s been…I mean…Fuck, I don’t know. A while.” 
“Really?” 
“Mhm.” 
“Any particular reason?” 
“At first, yeah. I got out of a serious relationship and I needed…Space. There’s that old adage, you know, the quickest way to get over someone is to get under someone, but that had gotten me into the relationship in the first place, so. I wasn’t exactly leaping to get in bed with someone else.” 
“You got in bed with me.” 
“Yeah, but we haven’t fucked.” You tip you head to the side, sweeping your gaze over his. 
“...No,” He murmurs. “We haven’t.” 
You bite your lip, lowering your gaze to your hands. You slip yours out from under his, reveling in the cool slip of the fabric of his shirt beneath your fingers before you raise your hand a little, trailing your fingertip down his pinky, then across to trace across his knuckles. 
“Go to sleep, Jonathan,” You advise softly.
“Can’t.” 
“Can’t?” You smooth your finger over the back of his forearm. “Why not?” 
“It’s hard, sometimes."
“What is?” 
“...Sleeping when you’re here.” 
You think you should lean back. You ought to lean back. But before you can make a move, Jonathan’s rolling onto his side, pressing his face into your shoulder. Your hand shifts as he does, smoothing up over his bicep to his shoulder. You bite your lip, raising your hand to smooth through his hair, settling on the back of his neck. 
“I can go,” You offer, eyelids fluttering as his hand smooths over your hip. 
“I don’t want you to.” 
“That the weed talking?” 
“Why can’t it be me?” Jonathan presses his face into your shoulder, nuzzling like a frightened child. “Why can’t it just be me?” 
“It can,” You soothe. “Just, you know. It’s been a long day and a weird…Weird evening. I think my question is valid.” 
You feel Jonathan tip his head up, feel as his beard brushes your cheek, his breath pushing against your cheekbone. 
“Can we sleep on it?” You implore softly, “Get the stuff out of our systems?” 
Jonathan doesn’t answer for a moment before he rolls onto his back, patting your hip and flopping onto the pillow with a groan, scrubbing his hands over his face. 
“That’s all I need,” He mumbles, “Someone else to get out of my system.” 
--  
You can’t sleep. You wait until you’re certain he’s asleep before you creep out of bed. You’re careful as you go, scooting down bit by bit under your feet hit the floor. You tip-toe out, careful not to step on any of the creaking boards. You stop in the doorway, watching Jonathan for a moment. 
You could leave—but christ, you don’t want to. You don’t think you could do that to him, especially not now. You know too much about him and his history to just disappear in the middle of the night. Frankly, you should both be sleeping on the dumbass shit you were about to do. You plop down onto the couch, turning the tv on and hurriedly lowering the volume before it can wake him up. You slouch down, eyeing an infomercial. You’re too lazy to flip through channels, so you let the sweet sounds of a Shamwow commercial send you off to sleep. 
-- 
“Hey.” 
“Mm.” 
“You hungry?” 
You consider, praying that he can’t hear the way your stomach groans in response before you can speak. It must be morning if he's asking.
“Little bit,” You mumble. You blink your sleepy eyes open, peering up at Jonathan. He hasn’t got his glasses on. He looks as tired as you are. 
“Why’d you come out here?” He asks, hand sliding down to your jaw. “Did I scare you off?” 
“No,” You shake your head. “I was tossing and turning. Didn’t wanna wake you up.” 
Jonathan nods a little, but he doesn’t seem to completely believe you. You pout a little, lowering your gaze from his as you reach up, gently fingering his collar. 
“If you’d scared me off, I would’ve left,” You point out. “I’m right here.” 
It takes another moment before Jonathan nods. You slip your tongue over your lips. 
“Did you sleep on it?” You hedge carefully. 
“Mhm.” 
“And?” 
“And…” Jonathan considers. “It wasn’t the weed.” 
Your heart thuds in your chest. You nod a little, thumb dipping beneath his collar, the nail tenderly scratching his skin. You bite your lip as you see his Adam’s apple bob with a thick swallow. 
“Good,” You chirp. “It wasn’t for me, either.” 
You should look him in the eye. Hell—you should get up and brush your goddamn teeth. But you lean up blindly, pressing your lips to his. It hardly takes a second before Jonathan’s hand is raising to cup your cheek, his lips sliding tenderly along yours. You smile, tenderly smoothing your hand down over his chest. You draw back a little bit, meeting his eye for a moment before bashfulness wells and washes over you. 
“Is there coffee?” You ask after a moment. 
“There can be.” 
“Okay. Okay,” You push yourself to sit up. “I'm gonna go wash my face. And uh…Brush my teeth.” 
“That might be for the best.” 
You scoff, reaching out and whacking his arm before you getting off of the couch. 
“You don’t exactly have the freshest breath either, buddy.” 
“I had a cigarette before I woke you up.” 
“That explains it.” 
You only get a couple of steps away before Jonathan takes hold of your hand, tugging you closer. You only have a moment to catch your bearings before you’re drawn into his chest, his lips covering yours again. You smile, raising your hand to cup his rough cheek, pushing a relieved sigh through your nose. You give him another peck before you lean back entirely, smiling as his fingers curl in the fabric of your shirt. 
“How much coffee do you want?” He asks. You grunt. 
“So much,” You twist out of his arms, turning away. “I want all of it, Levy.” 
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sweetly-yours-and-mine · 10 months
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Summary: Sipping from the other's drink
Pairing: Jonathan Levy x Reader
Warnings: author makes certain claims about academia that may or may not be true and are entirely biased because of her own experience with it (and a huge thanks to @pennyserenade for reading this over for me)
Word Count: 2.3k
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Jonathan’s brought you to a summer mixer at the Department Head’s family home, designed to maintain connections through the faculty during the slow months of the summer as well as create new ones with the incoming graduate students to the department. 
A newly-minted associate professor for the fall term, Jonathan at least doesn’t have to worry about students of his own. 
Really, he’s only here for the drinks. 
Academics’ pockets, though they don’t usually run deep, are quite generous when it comes to their alcohol, perhaps a sort of defence mechanism when it comes to dealing with the stress of their way of life. 
Everyone, however, seems to be at ease. It’s a late afternoon sort of function in order to encourage them to drink as much as they would like without feeling guilty about it, and loosened from the heavy burden of tweeds and thick wools, the faculty are clad instead in linen, cool and airy. 
Tongues are loose, smiles are quick to be given. People have forgotten the relentless competition they’re usually in when it comes to funding, to office space, to good class slots. 
All in all, he thinks that today has been a good day to introduce you to the people he’s going to passive aggressively work with for the rest of his life. 
He gazes across the room and finds the blue of your shirt, sticking out like a sore thumb in a sea of neutrals and whites. You’re talking to one of the faculty spouses, nodding your head and laughing. There’s a glass of pink lemonade in your hands, your hair falls around you as if you’re holding a secret within your chest. 
Jonathan yearns for you to be by your side again, to smell the perfume he bought for your six-month anniversary, the one you always spray into the crook of your neck because that’s always where he likes to press his face whenever he’s deep in thought. 
As if on cue, the conversation dies down and you drift back to his side. 
He marvels at how easily you’ve managed to fit yourself into this new crowd, how you laugh as the department fart tells you some lame joke that he’s probably told millions of others before you. You brush it off with grace and ease, I’ll talk to you soon, alright? 
It had taken him almost five years before he’d mastered that skill. The gentle brush off that made the other feel like you were doing them a favour. 
He loves you, that much he knows for sure. 
After the storm cloud of Mira and the past twenty years of his life had passed, he’d met you. As simple as that, as if the universe was only waiting for him before they let him hold onto the rest of his life like a delicate crystal glass. 
“Hi,” you come up close to him and Jonathan can smell your perfume and the strawberries on your breath. He wonders if he’ll be able to taste your drink if he kisses you long enough. 
He also wonders, as an addendum, how quickly he would lose his position if he did that. Despite all the shouting the university did about being progressive and open-minded, the tenured faculty members were still dreadfully hard-headed, old-fashioned. 
Jonathan supposes that he was too. Maybe he still is, simply by nature of his daily proximity to him on the same floor of the social sciences building, crumbling at the seams since the last of its renovations in the seventies. 
“Hi,” he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in close to him. There’s a glass of whiskey in his other hand that he doesn’t care much for anymore now that you’re here. He kisses the side of your head, brushes away some of your hair from your temple, “Enjoying yourself?” 
You giggle, it rings out like a fairybell. You lean up close to him and murmur in his ear, “You work with some very strange people.” 
He can’t help but laugh at that, turning his head to meet your sparkling eyes. “Yeah, I suppose I do.” 
“Very strange,” you muse again, looking out across the room. “And I thought you were the strange one.” 
That hits him in a funny way he wasn’t planning on it doing. He remembers once in high school his cross country running coach said she’d stepped, wearing thick-soled hiking shoes, on a pebble the wrong way and ended up having to go to physio for six months. 
He supposes he feels a little like that pulled muscle. 
He hums, tries to push down the blow you’d struck at him without realising it. 
“Strange?” 
“Mmhm,” your fingers drift around his waist and rest on top of his tummy, the one Ava had pointed out the other day in passing. “Strange, yeah. You got the whole, mysterious, hot, brooding professor thing going for you.” 
“And that’s strange to you?” 
You shrug. Jonathan feels the heat of your gaze against his face and he doesn’t feel like turning to meet it. Instead, he favours the sharp burn of whiskey. He ended up with a glass in his hand because some snot-nose had offered to pour him a drink and he’d been too much of a pushover and too concerned about what other people thought of him to say he preferred a red wine. 
You’re never like that. 
You were never like him; either because that’s who you were at your core, or because you’d manage to escape the way academia chipped away at one’s soul, until there was an empty, arthritis-ridden husk of a person by the time they reached tenure. 
Opposites did attract, he supposes. 
You were different from him. You weren’t afraid to drink the pink lemonade that had been left out for the few kids running around in the back garden, you weren’t afraid to call him weird if that’s what you thought of him. 
Jonathan wonders why it took you so long to say it to him. 
He’s about to try and pry the answer out of you when someone else approaches the two of you together. A newly-tenured professor whom Jonathan never really did get along with, particularly when he was working his post-doctorate and the guy had picked up an obnoxious habit of hanging around the kitchen coffee-maker and smacking his gum as loud as he could. 
There couldn’t have been anyone worse that could have showed up at the time. 
“Jonathan!” 
Something inside him curls into himself at the thought, and as if you could feel it, your arm wraps around him a little tighter. 
The man’s trying to make some small talk, the bare bones of it before he surely starts to boast of himself and his students and the latest hotshot fund he got because of his new tenure. 
“Hi,” you smile at him sweetly and make a green little sprout of something bad shoot up inside his stomach, a bitter taste lingering at the back of his throat. You introduce yourself as Jonathan’s partner and are just about to move to go away when he speaks up again, cutting you short. 
“I liked Mina more, Levy,” he grins and shows off his teeth like a predator. Against the off-white of his linen suit, they look even whiter, standing out like a sign against his tanned skin. “Shame you two had to end it the way you did.” 
Jonathan tries to remind himself that he doesn’t know how things ended with Mira. That it’s just another poke at him and his life to get a rise out of him. 
You smile at the guy again, there’s a sharper edge to it. His prickly rose. “Well, if you’ll excuse us.” 
Then you’re guiding him away from the stuffy room and towards a bench against the side of the house. There’s a full view of the backyard, the sloping apple tree and whispering aspens all around, the toddlers playing tag in shrill shrieks. 
He sits down with a low exhale, you follow beside him, slouching and shucking off your shoes. “Christ,” you mutter under your breath. 
It’s probably the most genuine thing he’s heard all afternoon and he can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “Yeah, sorry.” 
“You deal with that everyday?” It sounds like you’re pitying him. He wonders if that’s ever what Mira thought of him whenever he took her to these events. If she ever raised her eyebrows in surprise at each precise way you had to deal with everyone in the department. 
He swallows back his thoughts and nods, “More or less.” 
“Jonathan,” you shift and face him again. Still, he can’t bear to look at you anymore. Strange and Mira have started to float around his head like a crib mobile. “I…and you…” the rest of your words are lost to your breath as you turn around again, swearing quietly before reaching for his drink and taking a sip. 
He likes how your lips were on the same place where his was.  
The alcohol burns your throat and you grimace at him, “I didn’t know you liked whiskey.” 
“I don’t.” 
“Huh,” you seemed to have heard something stitched and laced into his words that he hadn’t noticed he’d put there in the first place. 
You weren’t much of a drinker. Yet another thing that Jonathan noticed when he started dating you. At New Years’ you had some champagne, small sips whenever you clinked glasses with the people around you before you’d pass your flute onto him to finish. 
Now that he thinks about it, that may have been your first sip of whiskey ever. 
Quite early on, once he’d taken you out on your fifth date and it was shaping out to be something serious like a marble statue carving, Jonathan had cracked open his ribs and showed you the bleeding insides of him. 
You’d taken some steps together quickly, probably too quickly if it meant that he doesn’t know now if you’ve ever had spirits before. 
That had been another thing he’d noticed when he’d started dating again, seriously and for real this time. Twenty years with a person leads to a tremendous collection of trivial information that he’s not sure he’ll ever fully be rid of again. 
It was strange to sit across from someone at dinner and not know how they took their coffee, what side of the bed they liked to sleep on, what order they unloaded the dishwasher and if they had a dishwasher anyways because the renting market is growing out of control. 
“Did you like it?” he asks suddenly, hoping to catch onto a trivial fact of yours, like collecting baseball cards or butterflies with a net. 
“Hm? Oh,” you look down at the whiskey glass and shake your head, handing it back to him. “Not really my thing.” 
Something still nags at him. Maybe it was a mistake bringing you here. You’re the only sober one out of all the guests. Even the host himself is growing rosy and red. It didn’t really look good to see that all your partner’s coworkers were borderline alcoholics, that they dealt with a tremendous amount of repressed trauma and stress and didn’t seek any help for it because of the size of their egos. 
Right then and there he vows to do better for you. He throws the rest of his drink out onto the garden, sets the glass down on the wooden bench with a heavy thud of well made crystal. 
“Do you really think me strange?” he asks you suddenly. Finally, after a long while, he meets your eye. 
“I…well,” you shrug and take in a slow breath. “Yeah, in certain ways. I think I do.” 
“I see.” 
Your words imbed themselves into his skin like shrapnel. 
“But…I don’t have a PhD, I can’t really…” you let out a breath and look out at the garden and the children playing. “Besides, I haven’t been divorced…I haven’t been in your shoes.” 
“I trust your opinion of me.” 
“It’s not that I think you’re strange necessarily,” you gesture back to the house and the rattle of chatter that keeps growing louder with each drink getting poured. “I…this is all very new to me. And I’m trying to understand what it’s like for you.” 
Jonathan starts to smile, “And how’s that going?” 
“Not very well,” you laugh and run your thumb against the rim of your glass. “I just drank whiskey for the first time.” 
He starts to laugh as well, and wrapping his arm around you, he pulls you into the side of his body. His other hand comes and takes your lemonade from your hands, sipping from it as well. 
It tastes like his childhood and hot summer evenings spent with his mother and his aunt, listening to gossip he shouldn’t have been listening to as their nimble fingers worked away with their knitting needles. 
“Do you wanna go home now?” 
“You still need to show face,” you muse quietly, tracing the outer seam of his pants with your finger. “They’re probably already starting to wonder where you’ve gone off to, and it’s going to hurt their frail little egos.” 
He barks out a laugh, and kisses the crown of your head, “God, I love you.” 
“I do too,” he hears the smile in your voice and it goes straight into his chest, wraps a couple pieces of his heart together and puts them back into place. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll entertain myself.” 
Jonathan kisses you this time, properly, the way he wanted to. Your fingers run through his beard and trace his jawline all the way around his ears and back down. 
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Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.
Masterlist here. Summer Drabbles here.
164 notes · View notes
winniethewife · 3 months
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I made you my temple, my mural, my sky (Johnathan Levy x reader)
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Warnings: Implied Age gap, angst ending in fluff.
Words: 738
They were fighting again. She was tired of the fighting. It felt unfair, he had so much more experience, He having been married and divorced, this being her first serious relationship. He wasn’t even sure why they were fighting, what started the fight, was he just used to fighting? Is this what he thought love looked like? She gave up and left the room in tears. He takes a moment, has a cigarette break before going to join her in the other room.
“I sit and watch you, I notice everything you do or don't do, I feel like I’m analyzing your every move, waiting for some inevitable betrayal.” He says softly as he leans on the doorway. She’s looking out the window as she sits on the couch, her chin in her hands.
“I don’t know what you’re looking for…You're so much older and wiser and I…I don’t know what I’m doing…” She looks over at him, she can see the tears in his eyes. She feels guilty, maybe the fights are pointless, maybe she’s just missing something. She lets out a soft sigh and moves over so he can come sit with her. He doesn’t move. He runs his hand over his beard and tilts his head to the side.
“If it's all in my head tell me now, That, I’m looking for something that isn’t happening. Tell me I've got it wrong somehow.” He says, the slightest bit of fight still in his voice, but most of it was heartbreak and assumptions. She runs her hand along her arm and shakes her head slightly.
“You can’t be more wrong Jon. I don’t think I could leave, even If I wanted to. Every day I wait by the door like I'm just a kid, for you to come home. Everything I do, I do it for you, I feel like my every waking hour is in dedication to you.” She looks up at the celling. “But none of it is enough is it?”
“Honey I…god I’m an idiot.” He half laughs, half sighs in exasperation. “You do some much for me and I act like it’s nothing. You lay the table with the fancy shit, polish plates until they gleam and glisten, Take care of Ava, you do everything… While you were out building other worlds, where was I?” He shakes his head before walking over sitting down next to her, leaning over, putting his head in his hands. She puts a hand on his shoulder and softly squeezes him.
“Jonathan, you know I love you. I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to be begging for footnotes in the story of your life. I just…I feel like I’m taking up too much space or time.” She says softly. He sits up and looks at her. A soft sad simile on his face.
“How can you stand to be around me? I’m always assuming the worst about us, like I expect it all to go up in flames at any time. As if everything is just a time bomb, I just assume it will go to shit…” He leans back resting his head on her shoulder, She instinctively nuzzles into his mess of curls finding comfort in his scent.
“You’ve spent a long time thinking everything was okay and wonderful and great to have the worst happen. I don’t blame you for thinking that way.” She says as they curl up together on the couch.
“I always thought you assume I'm fine, when I’m so obviously not.” He grumbles softly. She rubs circles in his back as she holds him close
“What would you do if I told you that, I think the same way? That I’m just…damaged goods to you.” She asks. He takes her hand in his.
“My love, if you’re damaged goods then, I am far beyond repair.” He chuckles softly. She takes his chin in her hand and turns his head to look into his dark eyes with a loving look on her face.
“Just a couple of broken toys no one wants to play with…” She leans into kiss him, her soft lips against his as he scoffs slightly at her remarks.
“Likely story.” He mutters against her lips.
“Would you rather I try to fix you? Believe me, I could do it…I think…I know how.” She moves her kisses from his lips down his neck….
“That…Just might work.”
~
Series Masterlist
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thepaperpanda · 2 years
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A Quiet Moment || Jonathan Levy x fem!Reader
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Summary: when Jonathan returns from work, you and he share some quiet and sweet moments
Warnings: none
Word count: 1659
Author: Fenrir & Cass
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Loneliness became more like solitude as time passed.
Your life had been filled with loneliness for as long as you could remember. Because there were so many exams and subjects that were so boring that it was sometimes easier to fall asleep on your books than learn from them, being a history student didn't help me have a rich social life. Your entire life changed when you met Jonathan, the philosophy professor. Those lectures were so captivating that you were surprised at how quickly time passed.
Your friendship blossomed into something more; a genuine, serious relationship bloomed like a flower.
When you heard the lock on your door screech with the spare key, you were overjoyed. You dropped your pen, dashed downstairs, and jumped into the arms of a man as soon as he removed his coat.
"Hello there," Jonathan softly greeted you, wrapping his arm around your petite waist. It was actually nice to return to a place where he could relax and be greeted with some affection. Maybe the whole thing wasn't smart or acceptable, but this was where he felt good. This was exactly what he needed to do to feel completely satisfied. He kissed your temple after putting the bag down, keeping you close. "Are you still awake? I was certain I'd find you in bed."
"I've been studying for a history exam and have decided not to sleep until you get home. Are you hungry and thirsty? I made zucchini lasagne."
"I told you not to sit or wait for me for too long. You should rest before the exam," he reminded you as he led you into the kitchen. "Would you like to eat with me?"
"Wash your hands and get comfortable. I'll heat everything!" You joyfully exclaimed. "Tea? Or beer?"
"I'll just go get some water. You appear to be in a good mood today. Did something happen while I was away? Is there any good news?" Jonathan washed his hands while watching you rush around the kitchen. He grabbed the glass and filled it with water before sitting down at the table, pushing glasses up.
"I got an A in European history," you said with a smile. "I didn't get the highest possible score, but that's irrelevant." You quickly served the lasagne and grabbed your portion to join him at the table.
"I'm glad to hear it, and I must add 'I told you so,' because the day before you were freaking out about European history," Jonathan chuckled, remembering how scared you were despite the fact that there was no reason for it. "Is there anything else I should know?"
"Your ex-wife called you. A few times, actually. She left a message for you."
Jonathan came to a halt with his food, staring at you.
He nodded, sighing deeply. "I hope she was pleasant. Did she explain why she called again?"
"No, these are 'your things,' and she 'will not be speaking with a third wheel about your private matters,' yeah?" You informed him simply.
He frowned again, adjusting his glasses. "Did she call you that, or did you interpret what she said?"
"I quoted her," you said, your tone a little sad. "I mean, I don't pay attention to her bragging, as you suggested, but it's annoying."
"I know it is," he nodded, reaching for your hand and gently pulling it closer to kiss your knuckles. "I promise I'll talk to her so she doesn't call here and remember, you're not the third wheel for me."
"Are you certain... I sometimes feel ridiculous for falling in love with you..."
"How come?"
"You're the professor, a promising man. And me? Just another dull student."
Jonathan sighed and pushed his chair back. "Please come here," he said quietly, grabbing your hand with the one he was still holding.
You took an offended position on his lap, instinctively putting a strand of your hair behind his ear. "You know what I'm like. I'm a little overwhelmed."
"I know, but I've also told you numerous times that there's no reason for you to," wrapping his arms around your waist, he reminded you. "Do you think I'd be here if you were just a boring student?"
With a shrug and tilt of your head, you replied, "I don't think so, Jonathan."
"So, why are you saying all of this?" He asked you again, and when he didn't get an answer, he kissed your shoulder. "You are more than a student. You are much more to me than that. I've told you this before, Y/N. I adore you."
You laughed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "You know I love you, baby, and I fell hard for you," you assured, resting your forehead against his and rubbing your nose against his.
His hand pressed against your nape, keeping you close. "You are a safe haven for me. There is no other place where I feel more at ease. I had a difficult day, but it improved when I returned home to you."
"Do you really mean it, love?" You inquired, nuzzling the back of his neck.
"Of course I'm serious. Why would I deceive you?"
"I never stated that you lied to me."
"Because you ask such a question, it means you don't believe me or doubt my words," he concluded with raised eyebrows.
"I just don't feel like I'm enough."
"You are more than sufficient. I wouldn't be here if you weren't sufficient," Jonathan kissed your cheek and nodded. "Now. Let's eat and then go to bed."
You pressed your lips to his cheek before returning to your seat to finish your meal.
Jonathan eventually began to eat as well. He was always a fan of your cooking. He helped you clean up after the meal and then accompanied you to your bedroom. He smiled as he saw the state of the bed.
Your laptop, books, and notebooks were all turned on, but the most intriguing thing was that his pillow was among them. "Someone missed me."
You began to remove your belongings from the bed in an attempt to conceal your blush. "You know how much I enjoy having you here with me, so I like to have your scent linger on me whenever I'm alone."
He picked up one of the books and handed it to you, laughing "Prepare the bed while I go take a shower. We can then cuddle. Does that sound right?"
You responded with a nod of eagerness.
He kissed you quickly and then went into the bathroom.
You made the bed, changed into fitted shorts and an oversized t-shirt, climbed aboard, and waited for your man to join you.
Jonathan finally joined you in bed after a half-hour wait. He sat on the bed and placed his glasses on the nightstand before falling asleep. "Come here."
Your head was instantly placed to his chest, where you placed a few tiny kisses. "Hi."
"Hello there," he hummed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. "Would you like me to spoon you? I know you enjoy it."
You simply nodded. "But not yet, because I'll fall asleep right away."
"Is that a bad thing? You require rest, especially after such intensive study."
"Let me store as much as I can with you."
"You cuddly, little Y/N," Jonathan chuckled as he squeezed you tight. "I was just thinking about something."
"About?"
"One weekend, we can just pack our belongings and go somewhere for three days. We can even bring Ava along, if Mira would let me. I'm sure you like her," he explained his concept. "The entire weekend, away from it all."
You rolled to your back and nodded with heart eyes. "When?! I want to! Ava is a wonderful girl!"
"I'm not sure yet. We'll need to plan it, as well as find a nice hotel and some interesting places to visit, make a hotel reservation," Jonathan shook his head.
You simply nodded. "I'll look into it tomorrow."
Jonathan laughed, nodding his head. "So eager. I am not going to stop you."
"You're too cute."
"Me? You're the cute one here."
"Thanks," you replied. "Do you think your wife will let Ava with us? She doesn't like me."
"It shouldn't be a problem, in my opinion. When I take her on my weekend trip, she will have nothing to say," Jonathan kissed your head while shrugging. "But don't be concerned, pretty little head. Mira and I will deal with it."
"That woman is beyond my comprehension. She was the first to pursue a younger man."
"Believe it or not, I don't understand her either, but I'm used to it."
"Jonathan?"
He hummed in response.
"What do you think, maybe one day we could consider... If we'll be together long enough... Having a... I feel silly."
"Say it."
"A baby. I mean a baby."
Jonathan rolled onto his side, drawing you in closer.
"Y/N. You don't have to ask me about this," he said quietly, moving a strand of hair behind your ear. "I told you openly that I still wanted a baby and agreed to wait until you were ready."
You simply nodded. "Seeing your little girl makes me want to have a baby, but I'm not sure I'd be a good mother, having a child is a huge responsibility. And the last thing I want to do is disappoint you."
"I saw you with Ava, and from what I saw, I know you'll be a great mom," he said, cuddling you. "You won't be alone in this."
A deep sigh escaped your lips as you nestled in his arms.
"I adore you and am confident that you will excel," Jonathan held you close and whispered.
You closed your eyes and listened to his heartbeat, which made you feel more at ease than before.
"Now. Just relax and don't think about it. You require it." Then he turned to his nightstand and switched off the lamp.
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ninebluehearts · 2 years
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I love you, darling
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Summary: After your fight, you and Jonathan don't exactly feel ready for bed.
Warnings: This is pure smut- umm, piv, oral (f receiving, um, that should be all. Minors dni.
A/n: Guys, this is my first time writing smut- I'm panicking- this is part 2 to Wasted Time, Darling! Enjoy 💕
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Jonathan sat on the edge of the bed, letting out an obnoxiously loud yawn as he leaned back to lay down. "Are you tired yet?" He asked as he prompted himself up onto his elbows.
You sat on the bed next to Jonathan, bumping your knee against his. Once you thought about it, you did feel kinda drained. Not tired exactly, but like you burned too much energy too fast. "I dunno. Are you?"
Jonathan stared at the ceiling, answering with a simple shrug. He'd been exhausted from work and he had to bring Ava to school this morning, so your fight had drained a good bit of his energy as well. "I could stay up if you want me to." He mumbled, reaching over to hold your hand.
You held his hand in your lap, tracing the lines in his palm with the tip of your finger. "Well, I'm not gonna keep you awake if you're tired." You glanced over at him, smiling when you saw him looking at you.
He raised his hand up to your face, cupping your cheek and guiding your head to the side to look at him. "You're so beautiful, baby.." He mumbled, his eyes running along your face. "Come here."
You leaned down and kissed him, your right hand cupping his cheek. You traced your tongue over his bottom lip, causing him to open his mouth and allow your tongue in. You swung your leg over him, straddling his hips as you kissed your way down to his neck.
"Fuck.." He muttered, his hands gripping onto either side of your hips. "You wanna do this now?"
"Mhmm." You moaned against his neck, already slipping your hands up his shirt. He sat up and grabbed the edge of the fabric, ripping it off and throwing it in the direction of the hamper.
He rolled you onto your back, now hovering on top of you. "Your turn, baby." He kissed his way down your neck and chest, kissing each new patch of skin that was revealed as he unbuttoned your blouse. Once he got down to your jeans, he hooked his thumbs under the fabric and pulled them off, taking your panties with them.
He gently pushed your legs up onto his shoulders, giving each of your inner thighs a kiss before dropping his head down and licking along your pussy up to your clit.
"Fuck-" You muttered, reaching down to grip his hair, causing him to moan against you. "Fuck, don't stop!" You gripped his hair tighter, wrapping your legs around his head to keep him against you.
Jonathan slipped his hand up your body and to your mouth, tapping his fingers against your lips. You allowed his fingers into your mouth, covering the digits with your spit before he pulled them out, gently pushing them into your pussy, slowly pumping them in and out as he sucked on your clit.
"Fuck, Jonathan!" You practically screamed, flooding his mouth with your slick as you came. Your thighs dropped from his shoulders, shaking next to him on the bed.
"Good girl," He said as he kissed your lower stomach, wiping the mixture of his spit and your juices off of his chin, before he made his way back up to kiss you. "Fuck, do you think you can do another one? For me, baby?" He pleaded, rubbing his thumb against your thigh.
"Yeah, I can do another." You mumbled, adoring the way his eyes lit up, matching the goofy grin on his face.
Jonathan got off of the bed and took the rest of his clothes off, actually tossing these ones into the laundry hamper. He sat back down on the bed, pulling you onto his lap.
You took off your unbuttoned shirt and bra, throwing them onto the floor. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in as close as possible as your lips pressed against his.
Jonathan pulled away after a moment, pressing his palm against your cheek as he looked up at you, his pupils blown with lust and lips swollen from your kisses. "Are you ready?"
You simply nodded, placing your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself. Jonathan dragged his rough hands down your body, gently pressing them under your ass to lift you up, carefully lowering you onto his dick.
You both gasped as he bottomed out, his thumbs tracing random patterns against your hips as he kissed your neck, waiting for you to adjust to his length. "I love you so much, darling.." He mumbled, gently nipping at your ear lobe.
"I love you too." You whispered, chills flooding throughout your body. Once you felt ready, you lifted yourself back up, slowly dropping back down when you got to his tip.
"Fuck." He muttered, his hands gripping your ass as you made your way back down. He let you fuck yourself on his dick for a few more moments, savoring the sweet moans flowing from your lips. But after awhile he needed more, so he flipped you onto your back, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his waist.
You didn't even protest, your legs still jelly from your first orgasm. You snaked your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss his forehead.
Jonathan grinned, leaning down to kiss you as his hips reared back then snapped back into you, his lips muffling your loud moan. He continued like that for awhile, pulling himself out to the tip then snapping his hips forward to bottom out again.
You felt your second orgasm rapidly approaching, an inescapable sense of pleasure washing all over you with every thrust of his hips. You dug your nails into his shoulders, dragging them down his back as he made his thrusts harder, nearing his own orgasm as well.
"Fuck baby, I love you so much- I just- fuck, I'm so sorry about earlier, honey. I want- no fuck, I need you," Jonathan whimpered, his thrusts quickly turning sloppy.
"Shh, baby, it's alright. I've got you, my love," You reached your hand up and cupped his cheek, guiding his face closer to yours as you pressed a gentle kiss against his lips.
He reached his hand down between the two of you, rubbing your clit in quick, lazy circles, desperate for you to cum with him. You arched your back up into him, digging your nails into the meat of his arms as your second orgasm washed over you. Jonathan wasn't far behind, his hips faltering as you felt a warm liquid spill inside of you.
You both laid there for a moment, cherishing the warm, comforting feeling of being so close to one another. You started to slowly run your fingers through his hair, kissing his forehead as he caught his breath.
"Fuck, that was- that was really good." Jonathan said as he stood up, running his fingers through his hair. "I'm gonna go clean up. I'll be right back." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, before disappearing into the bathroom.
You rolled over onto your stomach, sliding your arms up and under a pillow as your eyelids suddenly grew very heavy. The last thing you remembered was hearing the shower turn on before you fell asleep.
When Jonathan came back a few minutes later with a warm, wet rag in his hand and saw that you were asleep, he sighed, his heart flipping at the sight of you curled up with his pillow. He cleaned you up then pulled the covers up on top of you both, him holding you from behind.
Neither you or Jonathan liked fighting with each other, but you always had your ways of fixing things.
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mariamariquinha · 2 years
Text
Meetings and Greetings (Jonathan Levy x f!reader) - Part 1
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Part 2
Summary: You and Jonathan met because of Tulsidas.
Word count: 2.7k 
Warnings: Mentions about divorce, bad words, maybe a few academic terms, consumption of legal drugs and talks about Jainism/Bhudism. There’s nothing to worry about here, I guess, but don’t expect Jonathan to be... I don’t know. It can have a pinch of angst.
Author’s Note: This is very self indulgent because being a college teacher is literally my career. Yeah. Anyway. I did a personal research about Tulsidas and Jainism, so I’M TRULY SORRY if any of my considerations here are wrong on some level, that's why I even mentioned it superficially so as not to talk nonsense. 
Ah, this will have a second part. When? Well... It will happen. Don’t worry. 
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤
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You always knew Jonathan, but you’d never met him.
He would share a “hi” or “good morning”, nothing more than that, before leaving for his classes nonchalantly just like most of the teachers. Of course that didn't stop you from noticing him; after all, you two worked in the same department and he had a good reputation as a professional.
His divorce happened during your first year at the university; this information came as a gossip, a big occurrence there, but you tried to skip whatever speculation people would have to focus on this simple detail. Jonathan looked tired, walking around the building with an even quieter demeanor, affecting his own performance with students, who began to complain.
“Jonathan, we know things have been complicated for you recently, but you’re one of my best guys here, okay? I need to be sure you’ll be able to keep going or…” 
This information came by accident, one that you could avoid but ended up paralyzing you in the hallway, one hand on the wall and the other on the books you were carrying. Your supervisor’ voice was condescendent, thinking he was talking to a child - you could hear Jonathan sighing at it. 
If the talk had any effect on the man, you just knew that he decided to reduce his classes for a time, passing some of them to other colleagues while getting his shit together. Whatever happened in the meantime stayed a mystery even for the ones with good ears for gossip. In months, Jonathan Levy turned into a ghost, allowing only small snippets of their appearances in hallways or meetings.
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It was… August, yeah. A new semester, new faces, and you’re already used to the experience of leading a full class that year. You would start with special grades for Religion & Culture Studies, an offshoot of your research work for quite some time, and the idea had been getting you really excited.
With forty or fifty students intent on their introductory explanations of Jainism, did you not notice when someone came in through the side door of the room really discreetly. 
“For a very long time, Western researchers saw Jainism as a sect of Hinduism or a heresy of Buddhism, which isn't true considering…” Your voice faltered for a moment as you glanced toward the door, finding a serious, attentive Jonathan Levy standing there, clutching the bag strap slung over his shoulder. “... specific differences in their creation, reasoning and form of manifestation, despite sharing common elements.”
And he stayed there, silent, listening carefully just like the other students, not even daring to move from his spot. You talked, talked, talked, not losing your focus again even if no one noticed your first slide with the surprise of seeing him there.
“Jiva Jago… It’s a song, right?” 
Everyone was gone, leaving just you two there with his voice echoing considerably through the big space. You gave him a small smile, gathering your things nonchalantly and trying not to be so tense at having his full attention after a long time receiving two words or nothing at all. 
“From Gitavali book.” Gesturing at one of the books on the top of your desk, you could see him turning the object just a little to see the cover. “Do your students study Tulsidas?”
“Eventually,” The answer made you frown, which he noticed. “Sanskrit ends up being more specific, not really my area. But in religious contexts... Worth the discussion.” 
“That's for the boring teachers.” 
“You think?” He was grinning at your teasing, but you just shrugged.
“I think that by the end of the semester I will have ten very determined students here.” 
“What about the others?”
“Studying with cool teachers.” 
You stopped hearing about Jonathan for a very long time. No one found any funny or interest in talking about his personal life, nor on the way he would show such a miserable appearance around the university. He got divorced, this you knew, and with time he got back to his old days of talking excitedly with the students and being on the level of praise from your supervisor.
As always, you watched him from a distance. Read his new articles, accompanied the interviews he would give to the university newspaper, heard a joke that he told someone and that someone told you. 
Him being in your class and talking to you was new, especially with the full smile he gave you. 
“I've been reading your work lately, you know.” He said and you raised your eyebrows at the comment. 
“Really?”
“Yeah, well, people like you more than you think around here. After hearing so many good things, I decided to see it for myself.” 
“I appreciate your consideration. Do you have any conclusions?” You crossed your arms over your chest, seeing him shrug and repeat the motion. 
“None that would make justice to your work.” A pause. “I just… It came to my mind that we never met. At least not properly since you started here.” 
“Oh no, Professor Levy, it's totally understandable. I would never take that as a personal offense.” 
“It's kind of you, but I insist on apologizing. The last year has been a little rough for me and I feel it's impolite not to be receptive to my co-workers.”
Oh. Well, it wasn’t a thing you’re expecting, but good to know he thought about it in the middle of so many problems happening in his life. 
“... Okay then. Apologies accepted.” 
“Good. Very good, in fact.” He extended his hand at you, offering a handshake that you gave. “See you around, Professor. Keep going with… Sanskrits.” 
“And you keep going at being the cool teacher.”
You tried to stop smiling to the wind after that small encounter. Well, who were you kidding anyway? It felt good, if unexpected, and pretending it didn't affect you would be stupid.
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Getting to know Jonathan was more than a fluke. He seemed as committed as you are to creating some friendly bond, and it took a while for you to stop associating your approach with any possible guilt. Now and then, when time allowed, he would stop by one of your classes - sometimes until the end, other times for some minutes. It eventually led to him making small talks about your methodology, then full talks about what he was up to do with his students and vice versa.
You felt so involved with this subtle approach that you didn't feel when the discussions turned to personal stuff. Memories from your time in college, plans for the holidays, movies you liked, music you listened to. You became… close. Friendly close. And maybe someone would look at you two laughing at something in the corridor or sitting beside each other during a lecture from the Department, but nothing came to your ears and you couldn’t care less if it did. Jonathan proved himself to be a funny guy, not limited by his work and respectful; a good company, of course. 
Took you a time to start with the attraction. Like, he was obviously a beautiful man, a nice middle ground between someone who maintained a certain care for beauty and preferred something more natural, but you wouldn’t dare to put a finger on it for a lot of reasons. He was a colleague, maybe there was some rule about this type of thing, and more than that, he was divorced. You never asked how much of that past relationship affected him - personally, the age difference also left you a little apprehensive and in lack of hope, after all, he might prefer someone who was in the same age group (if he wanted someone at all).
The feeling stayed buried in your heart, untouched, invisible. Jonathan would touch your shoulder or look at you while listening to what you had to say, and that was the closest you got to keeping a warm feeling about him. 
“I didn't see you at the congress this week.” He stood in front of your seated figure during the lunch break and when you raised your head, you saw him towering over you with a frown. 
Oh. The congress. You wish you could, for sure, it was the best way to find funding for your research work and everyone you liked was there with panels or other interesting projects - but then your supervisor came with that stupid thing about restructure some classes and the time you didn't have was reduced even further.
Maybe Jonathan noticed it. God, maybe everyone noticed your grumpy behavior, but now he was looking at you with a concerned expression and you sighed, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes to give him more than an ugly face. 
“I’m not participating in it.” 
“Not even as a visitor?”
“Let's just say I've been a little busier lately.” 
Explaining the situation to him was like taking a big weight from your shoulders. As always, he listened carefully, even pulling a chair to sit at a certain point in your complaint.
“The thing is that I’m almost done, but sincerely I don’t know if I’ll have the energy to do anything for, like, months now.” 
“Maybe you just need to take your mind out of work for a time.” He said in a low tone, which made you scoff. 
“How?” 
“I don’t know, there’s a lot of things you can do.” There was an hesitancy in his voice, as if he wanted to verbalize something but was thinking better of it. You waited, even if the idea of believing you knew him that much sounded stupid and naive. “Why don’t we… Have a few drinks after this?”
You stared at him in awe, not daring to open your mouth and compromise yourself with any embarrassing thing. Well, this was… Okay. Drinks. You can have a few drinks. He’s Jonathan, after all, and he wanted to help you. 
“Drinks?” The smile you gave him was genuine, making him tilt his head to the side and follow the movement of your face hiding in the palm of your hand. 
“Just a few.” 
“Yeah. Right. A few.” 
“We can set a limit, like, two whole bottles of wine. For each other, I mean.” 
You both laughed while you slapped his arm lightly for the teasing. 
--------------------------
“Since when did you smoke?” 
It was late, probably after midnight, but none of you were feeling able to leave the bar at that moment. With more than a few drinks, your head was buzzing with that good feeling of the alcohol letting you be more free, and Jonathan looked the same, even if he made a better half-drunk person than you, staying with the quiet side of this state of mind. 
The place was nice, not new but away from the university to prevent any student surprises. Nothing too fancy, nor cheap - balanced enough that you could wear a dress at least. And he was… Him. Blue t-shirt. Jeans. Glasses. Nothing out of ordinary until, of course, he asked if you would be okay to keep him company at the smoking area. 
“Disappointed?”
“Surprised, is all. I don’t think I’m in the position to be disappointed with you.” 
Then Jonathan stared at you, his face illuminated by the cigarette and the light coming from the inside. He watched your stance, per se, head to toe, taking in the hands behind your back that were supporting your body, because you leaned back just a touch to look at the sky. It felt different. It was different. You weren’t in your job clothes, so the position could give a good glimpse of your cleavage and neck, even your thighs considering the wind flowing through the skirt of the dress. 
In a way, the choice wasn’t intentional. You fully wanted to feel more able to fit in the place, to pretend you didn’t have work to do back in your apartment and to really make the encounter a night out. He has stayed indifferent from it since you arrived - well, at least until that moment. 
Then you would lie if you said that didn’t bring a specific warm on you.
“You put a lot of faith in me.” Jonathan blew the smoke out of his mouth.
“... You’re on the list of the ‘cool teachers’, Jonathan. This is more than proof of your competence as a person.”
“I should be the one cheering you up.” He turned his body to you lazily.
“We can do that with each other too.”
“Nah, I don’t think it’s fair. I’m just a miserable man who has no more solution.” 
“Don’t be so dramatic!” You grunted before walking in his direction to give him a better look. “Hindu spirituality: Post Classical and Modern, page… 80. There's no difference between knowledge and devotion, both of them save the soul from the miseries of worldly life.”
“Tulsidas, I suppose.” He teased.
“Mm-hm.”
“And how do you know that so clearly?”
“I just like this phrase enough to know it by heart.”
“Nerd.” With that, he gained a slap on the chest and there was a light laugh that easily turned into silence. For your luck, Jonathan turned his head to blow the smoke away from your face, because then you could look at his profile with care.
Yeah, definitely, he was such a beautiful man. His nose, his beard, the curls of his hair… You would blame the alcohol later, but for a moment, when he just leaned his head against the wall and stared at the sky as you had before, your eyes wandered on his features, taking in every detail you wouldn’t be able to see in other circumstances. 
You would blame the alcohol later. Hell, you would. But then he looked back at you, sensing your stare, and you just knew that if someone asked, if someone dared to ask why that moment of simple adoration filled you, your mouth would say something about the beers, but your mind would remind you that the only responsible for that was Jonathan - Jonathan and his beautiful eyes. 
“You look beautiful tonight.” He whispered, the cigarette long forgotten on the floor while he held the side of your face with cold fingers. 
“Cheering me up?” 
“No.” A head shake. “It’s a statement. You look beautiful everyday, tonight is no exception, but… Back then I could stay at a distance.”
“Not now.”
“Not when you look at me like that.”
The first touch of his lips on yours was determined, even if a little tentative because it was really new for both of you. It felt also innocent, at least from the start, when he limited himself to taste just your lips. Gently, you pulled him closer by his neck, which he reciprocated with his arms circling your waist and his tongue brushing your lips to deep the kiss. 
The abrupt stop made you gasp. Jonathan stood a few feet away from you, a hand on his mouth and it didn't take you long to feel the first wave of rejection by the way he looked suddenly surprised. 
You wanted to say something. You should say something. He was standing there, really creating a big distance between you both, as if you’re some kind of plague he needed to stay away immediately. Being really honest, you would cry if the shock wasn’t so paralyzing. 
“Jon…”
“Nn-nn. No, just… I… I’m sorry, this…” His voice was firm and he paced back and forth a few times with indecision. “... Sorry. Really. Let’s just… I’ll take you home.”
Huh?
“What are you talking about?”
“This shouldn’t have happened, we… It’s not right.” 
Not right. Okay. 
Then the tears came, but you didn’t dare to let it show in front of him. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, thinking about what to say, and trying to avoid looking at his regretful face as much as possible.
“... I can do it myself.”
“No, at least let me…”
“Fuck off, Jonathan.” Your voice was bitter and full of a specific type of pain. “Just… Let me go.”
And he did. He fucking did. It made you more angry because, at the end of the day, after all you could ever imagine for a good relationship with him, he gave you a taste of heaven just to throw you in the dirt right after. 
If you cried in regret that night, he wouldn’t have the pleasure to know. 
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