#jonathan levy x reader

[st4rymoon]

♡ 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ♡

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟖: 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 18+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐲 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warnings: implied age gap (18+), overstimulation, p in v, soft dom Jonathan, loss of virginity, pet names (honey, love, bunny, sweetheart), creampie, soft dom levy, needy reader, fingering, pussy! Eating

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Jonathan was surprised when you told him you were a virgin. He knew you definitely had no trouble finding someone who would want to sleep with you but he quickly realized it was because you never really wanted to.

He admired that in you, you never did anything you didn’t want to do. You had no problems with saying no and setting boundaries with him when you first started dating.

Being the man he is, he respect it and reassured you there was no pressure in anything. The heavy make outs and soft grinding through each others clothes drove both of you insane and it always seemed to build up the sexual tension.

But here you were, straddling him like you usually do, both of you messily kissing as you whispered onto his cheek “I’m ready”

“Mmh?” Jonathan moaned, slightly pulling back from your lips in his lust drunken state. “I’m ready, you know, to have sex” you shyly repeated.

He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, staring at you with his lips plump and perfect. “You sure sweetheart?” He hummed as his lips latched onto your neck.

“Yes, yes” you whined as his hands held your face up to his “one hundred percent?” He cooed “yes! I said yes” you chuckled. “Ok love, you want me to stop say red” he hummed.

You nodded drunkenly as his hands snaked up your thighs, lifting ur skirt and snapping the band on your panties onto your skin.

You gasped at the sensation, his thick calloused fingers gliding on your clothed pussy. His lips trailed soft kisses onto the sides of your neck, down your arms and stopping at your tits.

Jonathan watched in admiration as you began to whine at his touch, he loved knowing how sensitive his pretty girl was. “Feeling good love?” He cooed, you nodded in response. Your hips had a mind of their own, grinding onto his digits through your thin panties.

He groaned at the feeling of your slick dripping through you panties, the sticky slick coating his fingers through the fabric “all this for me huh?” He smiled.

“Please” you whined as you took in the feeling of his cock bulging through his pants “I need you, please” you pleaded. Jonathan could’ve came to the sound of your voice if he didn’t hold himself back, you sounded perfect.

“Need me how bunny? Tell me what you want, use your words” he cooed, hand on your cheek as he watched you grind onto his lap. “Fu- fuck, you! I need you.. inside me please, fuck me” you cried, feeling impatient you began to tug at his sweats.

He chuckled as he let you eagerly tug his sweats off, leaving in him boxers and his grey tee. “Please Jonathan” you purred as your lips latched onto his neck, softly sucking and biting onto his skin. “Take these off f’me”

He helped you take off your panties, leaving your soaked pussy out in few view for him. His cock strained against his boxers as he felt your slick on his thigh causing him to eagerly kick off his boxers.

“Not letting you do the work” he purred as he pushed you onto your back. His hands moved onto the back of your thighs, his rough hands pinning your legs open for him to admire what’s his.

“All needy for me huh bunny? Look at you” he cooed as one of his fingers dragged down your sticky folds. You shivered at the new feeling, the feeling of someone’s hands on your cunt other than yourself.

Your hips rolled as Jonathan rubbed small circles onto your swollen clit, his eyes trained on your face to watch you make a mess on his fingers already.

He loves how sensitive you are, each little touch he gave you made you whine and whimper. You watched him as he licked his fingers clean of your slick, his arms shifting himself down between your thighs as he never broke eye contact.

“Gotta get you ready for me honey, make sure you feel good” he mumbled, it came out more like a whine. Jonathan could feel his blood pumping through his veins as he was inches away from your pussy.

His cock was harder than ever as he imagined himself fucking you, ruining you for any other man and claiming you his. “Eyes on me”

You let out a loud gasp as you felt his soft lips and beard rub against your pussy. The new sensation making you shiver while he dove into you deeper. He let out a depraved moan as your thighs closed instinctively, caging him in.

He effortlessly spread your legs open, now bobbing and eating you out like a mad man. You could hear how wet you were, how sweet he sounded moaning into your pussy.

You were holding onto the sheets so hard your knuckles turned white, hips bucking forward towards him in bliss. “F- fu- fuck jonat-“ you panted out.

You watched him eat you out, he looked like he enjoyed it as much as you did. Your hands tangled onto his hair as you felt the knot in your stomach forming, god you were sure you’d maybe even squirt from the feeling.

Your orgasm washed over you, cum gushing out of you as he continued to roll his tongue around your clit. You cried in pleasure as he continued, your body jerking and shaking from the overstimulation.

“Takes so good honey” he moan, his beard was covered in slick as he pulled away softly “did so fucking good f’me”

He rubbed the back of his hand onto his beard, cleaning your slick off lazily as he yanked you forward. “My pretty girl” he cooed, his hands moving up your tummy and back down to your thighs as he savored your glossy eyes.

“Gonna go slow ok?” He nodded down as he aligned himself between your thighs. “Yes yes please” you whispered desperately.

You watched Jonathan’s eyebrows furrowed as he pushed into you, your pussy clenching around him as he softly went deeper.

You let you a loud moan as he stretched you open, his fat tip spreading you perfectly and pushing deeper as you adjusted to his size. Your nails dig into his arms as he watched himself slip inside “you ok?” He grunted as he looked up at you in worry, he tried his best to keep everything slow.

“Mmhm” you nodded “you can move”

He nodded and thrusted his hips inside you, loud moans spilling out of both of you as you felt him hit somewhere you could never reach. Your pussy squeezed around him as you clenched “a- ah fuck breath honey or else I’m- imma fill you up” he hissed.

You tried your best to relax, allowing him to pick up the pace. You bounced with each of his thrust as he filled you fill, the feeling of his thick veiny cock rubbing against your gushy walls was intoxicating.

“Faster” you gasped, he obliged, your mouth flew open as he lost himself inside you. His pretty curls bouncing on his head as he held onto your hips for dear life. Jonathan couldn’t believe you felt this good, he couldn’t believe anything could felt this fucking amazing.

He wasn’t aware of how fast he was slamming into you but you could care less, he was hitting the perfect spot inside you as he pounded you onto the sheets.

“My pretty little girl, let- letting me fuck this pretty fucking pussy” he hissed as he watched the ring of cum forming at his base.

“A- oh fu- fuck!” You moaned as you clenched around him, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. The pretty moans spilling out of you made Jonathan hiss, one of his hands holding your hip down and the other keeping himself up as he came inside you.

You smiled dumbly at him as he muttered praises, looking just as ruined as you were. His eyes were squeezed shut as he stuffed you full with his cum. He felt like was cumming more than usual, and he was.

He held onto your hips as his cock continued to spurt inside you “go- oh my f- fuck honey” he cursed, his body instinctively pushing his hips even deeper inside you.

You clawed at his back as he thrusted slowly, a sigh of relief came out of you as he finally let it all out. You’ve never seen Jonathan so damn messy.

He stared down at your pussy as he watched your tight hole spill his loads out onto the couch. “Can’t have that” he hummed as he pushed his cum back inside with his fingers.

You squirmed as he watched you with an adoring smile. He leaned in for a kiss as he pulled out of you.

“You did perfect for me sweetheart”

[eyelessfaces]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑: 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐎

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

jonathan levy x reader

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤: bath/shower

warnings: age gap, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving)

word count: 0.5k

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

Dating someone older than you had its pros and cons. 

Cons were your family’s non required opinions about your relationship, the deafening silence after you had told your friends that your new boyfriend was in his forties when they had yet been so excited for you to tell them more about him.

The pros were getting to learn about life’s hardships more easily, since your boyfriend had already gone through them and saw the end of the tunnel, and could then guide you through it.

But most of all, the ultimate con was Jonathan’s experience with sex.

Jonathan had been a broken man that you had to fix and put the pieces back together, and though it could seem like a favor that cannot be repaid to others, Jonathan paid you back well. Really well.

Sure, he may not have the stamina the men your age have, multiple rounds sometimes weren’t an option for him, but he could work your orgasm with his mouth and fingers way faster than anyone you had ever slept with before.

So when he drops to his knees in the middle of taking a shower together to eat you out, your reasonable reaction should be to tell him to stop being stupid and to be careful about his knees, but it flies out the window the moment you start to think about how his tongue is going to feel.

You let him maneuver your leg over his shoulder, your hand resting against the shower wall, your back resting against the one behind you; the position isn't the most comfortable, but you know it won't necessarily last long.

Your head drops back with a loud thunk when you feel the first contact of his tongue against your folds, the pain of the impact on your head quickly vanishing when Jonathan starts licking at you and dizziness takes over your senses.

Where he was usually delicate and slow, there he was eager and vigorous, determined to watch you fall apart above him. 

His hand is gripping your thigh over his shoulder, kneading it so vigorously as he eats you out that you’re sure there’s going to be his handprint bruised there once he’s done.

His other hand is pumping two fingers inside you, so intensely that you can hear the embarrassing squelch of your juices over the sound of the water falling over Jonathan’s back.

And there you could feel all the experience he had; his movements so calculated and effective, all his movements so coordinated to make you feel overwhelmed by sensations, but the good kind of overwhelmed; his flattened tongue lapping at your folds and then his lips closing to suckle at your clit, his fingers thrusting and hitting the spongy spot inside of you, and the feeling of his prickly beard against the inside of your thighs burning in a pleasant way.

You don’t even have the time to tell him when your orgasm is about to hit, too drunk and overwhelmed by everything he’s offering you, and you have to brace yourself against the wall when your knees go weak and start shaking.

He stands up once you recover, pulling you into a kiss allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

“I’m not done with you” he declares as he scoops up a trail of shampoo falling over your forehead. “But we’ll do that in bed, my knees can’t handle that.”

—

as always please reblog and tell me your thoughts it helps a lot!!

scenes from a marriage taglist: @missmarmaladeth @anightshift @whatthefishh @campingwiththecharmings @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mintgreen24 @dameronshandholder @jakecockley @cocodiem @pedropascalsidechick @spxctorsslxt @stvnnie

+ @flightlessangelwings

[oscarisaacsspit]

room full of chairs (and i know exactly where i’m gonna sit) 🤭

[spacecowboyhotch]

Filthy

summary: that’s the thing about illicit affairs, clandestine meetings and longing stares.

pairing: jonathan levy x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, car sex, professor kink, glasses kink?, dirty talk, kissing, creampie, longing, love confessions

wc: 1.7k

an: the professor kink went a little crazy in this one so if that’s not your jam, skipperoni! if it is…enjoy <3

oscar characters masterlist | writing masterlist

This shouldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t.

You shouldn’t be in his car, in his lap— in his vicinity at all because it always leads to something like this. Messy and sloppy and hurried, so desperate. The two of you gave up on resisting this a long time ago, but that doesn’t keep your brain from questioning it.

He’s not even divorced yet, can’t even convince himself to sign the papers given everything that Mira had done. You’re his breath of fresh air, the only thing besides his daughter that makes him feel alive these days. But you’re also his closest colleague’s graduate assistant. The reasons that getting caught would end poorly for both of you are not small, hidden, or easy to brush away.

Those reasons don’t change the delicious way his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs under the skirt you have on. The dip of his tongue into your mouth, licking and searching feverishly. They don’t lessen the arousal sitting in your lower belly. You’re not sure if anything could because when you’re at the center of Jonathan’s attention, it feels like nothing matters beyond the two of you.

You groan into the next kiss, and Jonathan shivers beneath you, some desperate sound of his own echoing into your mouth. Accompanying the intoxicating taste of you is rain on your lips. You’re soaked to the bone, your clothes skintight and a few shades darker from the rain that continues to pour outside of the confines of his car. Every kiss, every touch of his warms you from the inside out.

“We’re committing public indecency,” He murmurs, but he doesn’t stop kissing you, doesn’t stop using his grip on your ass to grind you down against the swell of his clothed cock.

He isn’t wrong but this is the best you could do in a pinch.

Your roommate is another graduate assistant, and though she doesn’t work in your department or Jonathan’s, she’d surely recognize him if you were to bring him over. There’s some unspoken agreement about his place, the house where he lived with Mira. You don’t feel ready to go there yet and thankfully, he isn’t quite ready to let you in. So he picked you up from your apartment complex and drove to the nearest park. Usually, the two of you plan a little better— there’s a long drive a couple hours away, some cozy little Airbnb on the edge of the city with the promise of going unrecognized hanging in the air.

This thing that shouldn’t be happening is practiced, meticulously planned but today is something different. If you weren’t so distracted by the feeling of him against you, you’d ask what has him so riled up. A little voice in your head can guess, but that would just complicate things. Instead, you’d really like to focus on this, that warm feeling he brings, and you hope that his concerns about breaking the law aren’t too intense.

“Do you want to stop?” You ask, breaking the kiss but only to kiss at his neck.

“No, don’t stop, baby. Don’t stop.”

And there is nothing that compares to the sweet sound of Jonathan calling you baby. You've never said no to Jonathan and you don’t plan to start when he begs for you like this.

“Kiss me again.”

Jonathan obliges, grasping the nape of your neck with gentle strength and pulling you forward to kiss you as if he’s trying to consume you.

You use your knees to raise up, sliding your hand between the two of you so that you can palm at his erection through his jeans. He whines into your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip. Both of these things spur you on and your other hand drops from his curls, working with the other to undo his jeans so that you can slip your hand into his boxers.

“You’re so sweet, so soft,” He murmurs as he begins to kiss and bite his way down your neck. You can hear the strain in his voice, how he’s trying his best to keep it steady and show that you aren’t affecting him.

There’s not a world where you have even half the discipline that he does. You are nothing but desperate for him— needy, always prepared to beg and whine until he gives you what you want. But, there’s no harm in trying to make him show how desperate he is for you too.

“Professor, please. I need you.”

“How am I meant to say no to you when you call me that?” He teases the skin of your neck with his teeth and you writhe in his lap, just like he wanted you to.

“You’re never supposed to say no to me, that’s the point, Levy,” You tease, hand tightening around his cock. His hips jump into your touch and you know that if you work just a little harder he’ll be exactly where you want him.

Jonathan’s hand skates up your torso. With your wet shirt, your nipples are practically on display through the fabric and he runs his thumb over one playfully before rolling the peak between his fingers, “And where’s the fun in that? You don’t want to earn it today, sweet girl?”

“No—“ You gasp through short breaths, chest heaving into his touch, “I just want you to give it to me. Please.”

His other hand finds your other breast, his touch more insistent as he pinches your nipple, “Desperate, sweet girl. Tell me what you want, I need to hear it.”

You fix him with that look that you know will get you anything you ask for, “I want your cock, I want you to let me sit on it.”

“You’re so fucking filthy, so needy for me aren’t you?”

“Yes, Jonathan, please.”

And while he thoroughly enjoys the way you call him professor, or Levy, his name rolling off your tongue makes his heart skip like he’s some teenage girl having her first kiss. Any teasing and pretense of having discipline go right out the window. His hands are gentle but sure as he moves yours out of his boxers and lifts you to bare himself to you.

“Are you ready? Can I—“

“Yes, please, fucking yes.”

Jonathan uses one hand to line himself up with your entrance, the other immediately gripping your hip and sliding you down onto the length of his cock. The kiss you two share is hardly that, but messy teeth and tongues that meet as you both moan.

“Ride me,” He says against your mouth. He wants it to sound like a demand but you both know what it is. He’s finally just as desperate as you are— he’s begging.

There’s nothing in you that wants to fight him, there never is, all you want is more and more of him— whatever you can get because despite the passion, the ease of spending time with him, there’s a little voice in the back of your mind that screams this is temporary.

It’s unhealthy to think that each time you and Jonathan fuck it might be the last, but you refuse to take him or any moment spent with him for granted. You place one hand on his shoulder, the other reaching back to find purchase on the dash so that you can bounce on his cock in earnest.

“Fuck, your pussy is so good, it’s made for me,” He groans.

Your eyes are glued to his face, drinking in the sight of him. He rests his head back against the seat rest, mouth ajar. His glasses are propped up on the crown of his head so as not to fog up, and a light goes off in your head. Shifting most of your weight onto your thighs you swipe the glasses from his head, sliding them onto your face.

The sound he makes has you upset that you haven’t thought of this move sooner. His hips snap up into you harder, making you yelp as the tip of his cock presses against the spot deepest inside of you.

He’s breathless as he says, “Oh god, you filthy fucking girl.”

“Do they suit me, professor?” You pant with a smirk.

His eyes go dark, as he gazes at you from under his lashes, “All of this suits you, everything about us together suits you. My name in your mouth, my cock in your pussy, all of it.”

His words make your head spin, and you quickly remove the glasses so that you can kiss him properly, smashing your mouth to his. You roll your hips, taking him as deep as you can before you start to rock, bouncing in his lap once more.

The back and forth between you dissolves into a frantic madness, both of your bodies focused simply on giving and receiving pleasure. His hands find your hips, helping you bounce more quickly and firmly as both of your breaths go shallow and whiny. The pleasure in your lower belly builds, chugging higher and higher each time you come down against him. You’re surrounded by the smell of sex, the sound of it, the heat of it. The windows fog and with each thrust of his hips up against you there’s the sound of skin on skin, of how incredibly wet you are for him.

“Jonathan, I’m—“

“You’re so close aren’t you, baby? Gonna cum for me so I can fill you up nice and deep? So I can make you mine again?”

“M-make me yours,” You repeat his words but your version is a beg, full of desperation.

He shushes you, hand sliding between your slick bodies to find your clit, “Let me help, let me give you what you need.”

Despite the soft gentleness of his fingers against your clit, the shockwaves of pleasure they provide melt away the last of the barriers between you and your orgasm. You melt around him, so warm and tight as you cum with a soft cry. It’s impossible for him to resist, and he joins you, body going stiff as he fills you up.

“I love you,” He whispers unthinkingly in the postcoital haze.

“I love you too,” You whisper back easily, leaning forward to rest against his chest.

Neither of you allow that usual feeling of dread of returning to your lives as they are— of having to deny each other day in and day out— to settle in. Instead, you let the softness in, the love so young and new but no less meaningful. He holds you right, like he’ll never let you go. And for the moment, you let him.

if you’d like to be on my jonathan levy/oscar issac taglist lmk!

jonathan levy taglist: @honeybrowne, @angelfxllcm, @sweetascherrylies, @hotchs-bitch, @jakelcckley, @mrspector, @jitterbugs927, @myorestes, @winwin70 , @ninebluehearts, @whatthefishh, @fanofverymanythings, @marc-spectorr, @toracainz, @rmoonstoner, @roseqzpd, @mccn-bcys, @campingwiththecharmings

[campingwiththecharmings]

*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

[faretheeoscar]

SWEET LIES

Pairing: Jonathan Levy x Reader

--Warnings: 🔥18+, nsfw, oral sex, mentions of unprotected sex (take care of yourselves guys), lots of angst(Jonathan is a soft jerk), praise kink, contextual/ small? spoilers of scenes of a marriage (read under at your own risk if you haven’t seen it), age gap, sub-ish Jonathan (?), student/professor relationship (so much warnings omg)--

A/N: English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there’s any mistakes

Thanks to vin for her insights on Jonathan 🫶🏼

Word count: 2.1 k ~

You knew he was trouble, with all the backstory this man had; two failed marriages, two families to feed, and an inflated new ego due to his new success on his study field that led him to do international Ted talks amongst other things; this man exuded powerful energy from wherever angle you saw him, although that may be the case when he was in public; when you saw him giving lectures or speaking amongst his peers, but you knew other sides of Jonathan, he showed you a different side of himself when he was alone with you, you very well knew how this man could became all mushy and needy after a single peck on the lips, but also he could be dominant, specially when he had you bend over his desk as he pounded relentlessly deep inside you from behind late at night on a dark classroom after finishing the lecture and making sure to lock the door.

-----------------------------------

This was your routine with Jonathan, every Wednesday you had your after hours session with your professor after his lecture, it all began when you started to stay after class to ask him about everything and anything you could think, not even really caring on his answers or the extra homework and research he sometimes gave you just because you asked something so rhetorical that he didn't even had the answer but he hid it in a very smart way making you do a 100 page essay about the topic just for you to "figure the question out for yourself", all that extra work only for you to stay on his presence for a few more minutes after class and please your dumb college crush with your professor.

Eventually one thing led to another, Jonathan was a very smart man and he started to notice the way you carried yourself around him and he liked it, A LOT, he noticed the longing gazes you gave him whenever he was giving a lecture, the dumb smile and pink hue your cheeks turned every time he praised you for answering a question he asked to the class, the lingering touches on his arm whenever you said goodbye to him, and finally those tiny tight little skirts you always wore to his class even if it was freezing outside, those things slowly started driving him crazy for you, feeling the need to bury himself deep inside you and fuck you senseless until you got so cock drunk on him that he'd ruined sex for you, you wouldn’t even turn your head around to be with another dumb college boy who couldn't satisfy you the way he would if he had the chance.

Those thoughts lingered in his head every time he saw you, his cock would get hard at the slight sight of your thighs when you moved in your chair at class, all that sometimes giving him embarrassing boners he couldn't hide unless he sat down behind his desk or excused himself to the bathroom to try to calm himself down, that kept happening until one day he couldn't handle it anymore and he took you for the first time after class. That day he noticed that after he was explaining to you a random question you had about the meaning of life, you opened slightly your legs for him to catch a glimpse of your wet panties below your loose skirt.

Soon after the class ended he went mad, his desires possessed him over when you came to his desk and leaned a little bit closer to him, giving him the opportunity to devour your mouth as if he was famished, drank your juices as if he was dehydrated and pounded into you in a way that it left you with a small limp the next day.

At the beginning it was only the rush of rough needy sex and the excitement of experimenting with one another, but when you started to get little hints of Jonathan’s life, of his real essence when he decided to share a little bit of himself when he was on a post nut clarity after filling you up with his cum until it leaked down your thighs like the pretty little girl you were for letting him do it, you started to fall for your professor, and you were falling hard, it wasn’t on your plans at all, to fall in love with a man that could be easily your father or a really young uncle? Definitely not what you had in mind, you always tried to push away your feelings for him, but you couldn’t help yourself , every time you walked into the same room as your professor the air got thicker, heavier, an invisible force always pulling you towards him, and the small little glimpses he gave you of his life, those were a lifeline to you.

------- 

And that’s how you always fell into the same situation, by couldn’t focusing on the bigger picture, on what was best for you, to avoid the lies, because each time he had his two fat fingers deep inside your pussy while he was eating you out like a starving man from below your skirt, not even worrying to pull off your panties from you and just pushing them to the side when his eyes went crazy after he felt how wet you were for him, you couldn’t help but feel like you were in heaven, like you were the most desirable creature in the world.

He knew about your developing feelings towards him, and boy did he took advantage of your sweet little innocence, always praising you and letting you hear what you wanted in exchange for you to give yourself fully to him, to keep you hooked on a non existent developing relationship as he kept making you empty promises.

 

“We’re gonna be together soon, I promise."

 

He mumbled as his digits went deeper inside you, touching your soft, velvety walls in ways that made you shiver.

 

“I’m gonna leave her, I'm gonna leave everything behind for you, baby."

 

You knew there were all lies; they had to be; this man was deprived from all sense of loyalty a long time ago because his demons haunted him until this day and he let himself be consumed by them, but that didn’t impede you from clenching around his fingers so hard as he tried to push them into you so deep that he could barely move them.

 

"God, you’re so beautiful; I’m gonna be with you forever.”

 

Lies, lies and more lies, sweet little lies that drove you mad as you squirmed under his touch, you knew he’ll be gone as soon as he finished with you, like always, he’ll go back to take care of his family, he’ll tell you he is going to leave them and then come back next week with the same lies but with the same starving and lusty look whenever he looked at you that made you clench around nothing, that made your knees go weak, until you knelt down in front of him forgiving every single false promise and sucking his cock so hard he’ll came in just a couple of minutes, Jonathan, sweet, but intelligent jerk Jonathan the man you loved, that will never be yours fully, you always tried to extend your time together as long as you could, you would taste him and love him as passionate as you could, although he told you over and over again that this was not passion, he didn't believed in that, he told you this was something deeper, a true connection between the two of you, but yet again you knew he was lying, he always lies, still you believed him when you kissed him and his tongue danced with yours, for just a couple of hours he was yours, and only yours, he loved you, but it was fleeting, just as the time you spent with him, his love will fleet and yours remained so deep inside you sometimes it hurt to even breathe.

Even though he was lying to you, saying all those things for your enjoyment, to keep you on the edge and hooked on him, when the opportunity of being with him presented itself to you, it didn’t really matter cause of Jonathan's skillful hands and tongue always moved so in and out of sync, giving you something that no one else has given you before, as his big fat digits always teased your hole, curling upwards just in the right way to reach your G-spot over and over again as his tongue flicked your clit in the most hypnotic way.

 

“My sweet girl, my sweet, beautiful, good girl.”

 

He ate you like a starving man, his licks and sucks on your clit becoming more enraged as he got lost in your scent and taste, making him moan and grunt as he reached for his pants with his free hand and started palming himself through his corduroy khakis.

 

“Oh god-You drive me crazy, baby”

 

He grunted as he kept palming himself in rhythm with his fingers that were thrusting into you, attacking your G-spot as he kept on abusing your clit, with his tongue feeling how tight your little hole was getting as you went close to your release.

 

“F-fuck baby girl...God, I-”

Jonathan kept moaning for you, it almost sent you spiraling at the sight of how ruined and pathetic this grown ass man sounded, desperately whining while drinking your juices, with messy curly hair thanks to the hard tugs you did to it as you tried to hold him as close to you as possible, not that he wanted to be in another situation, cause that man, he was so pussy drunk, he was almost coming in his pants at the mere scent of you.

 

“I- I love you.”

 

Jonathan whispered softly against your core, and with that, you came undone. Your legs shook, and you contorted your face in ecstasy as your climax hit you hard, leaving you seeing stars. Your mixed moans, along with Jonathan's, echoed in the room as he also embarrassingly made a mess out of his corduroy khakis, a big stain of cum now seeping through the fabric.

 

Jonathan got his head out of your skirt and chuckled softly as he saw you were as ruined for him as he was all ruined for you. He brushed the slick of your juices off his beard with the back of his hand and gave you a soft smile while a pink blush colored his cheeks because of his little incident on his pants, something different was different that day, some sparkling in his eyes.

You looked up at him with a stupid, dumb smile, hopeful about what just happened between you both and the deeper meaning of it. You wanted to ask him about what he said to you just seconds ago, his words ringing and repeating inside your head over and over again.

You wanted to speak, but words didn’t come out, getting trapped in your throat as you looked at him dumbfounded, something he mistakenly took as a look of pure ecstasy after taking care of you, lifting his ego more, as if his ego wasn’t inflated enough already.

 

He chuckled at your lack of words and pinched the side of your cheek before speaking.

 

“See you next week after class, then? Hm, same time?”

 

Your head still in a stupid post-orgasm haze and lost in the sweet words he told you, made you nod your head softly to him, without being able to say anything you wanted to tell him, he gave you a soft peck on the lips just before running his hand through his messy curls to arrange them, tucking out his shirt from his pants to hide the mess he made of himself, and picking up his bag to slouch it over his shoulder, trying to look as presentable as he could on the way from the classroom to his car. You wished he would stay and talk to you softly, to talk about your feelings, but instead he was again leaving you alone in the dark classroom with your heart on your sleeve.

 

You thought you had it all figured out when you saw there was a spark in his eyes; it was different from other encounters you have had with him before, but you couldn’t quite put the words to what it was.

Maybe he was truthful with his words? Or maybe he really didn’t care at all. Either way, you’ve fallen for Jonathan’s sweet, sweet lies.

 

Again...

Fic Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated 🫶🏼

[ofstarsandvibranium]

My You-niverse Masterlist

Fandom: Oscar Isaac

Pairing: Oscar Isaac's Characters x F!Reader

Summary: You and America get stuck portal jumping until you reach your universe again. In the meantime, you meet various versions of your husband.

Status: COMPLETED

Marc Spector

Blue Jones

Laurent LeClaire

Nathan Bateman

Bud Cooper

Santiago Garcia

Richard Alonso Munoz

Duke Leto Atreides

Poe Dameron

Marc Spector & Steven Grant

*I WILL NOT BE TAKING TAGS!*

[melodygatesauthor]

Choking in Silence

Jonathan Levy X gn!Reader

Blurb 21 for Melody's 2023 Ficversary Celebration

NSFW below the cut

“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…

Melody's 2023 Ficversary Masterlist

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 23

Day Twenty-Two | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Twenty-Four

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

“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."

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @wild-rose-35 ; @daisyslibrary ; @informally-liz ; @andrastesflamingtitties ; @muchacha-encabronada ; @nerdygirl0414 ; @elen-aranel ; @ohbee-whatcanyoube ; @kmc1989 ; @quietpainter ; @thedreadandthefugitivemind ; @kaletastrophes ; @nyx2021 ; @thatesqcrush ; @shanimallina87 ; @adarasforest ; @s-u-t ; @silversprings-mp3 ; @senawashere ;

[eyelessfaces]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

so... this is my first time trying kinktober, and I'm nervous lmao. it's a lot for me to process and writing all of this is a bit overwhelming which is why I decided that I won't be writing for all 31 days.

all prompts are taken from @flightlessangelwings, thank you for making this list!!

follow and turn on notifications on my sideblog to be notified when I post! @eyelessupdates

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏: love bites with poe dameron

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐: bath/shower with jonathan levy

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟒: sex pollen with poe dameron

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟕: slow and soft with rydal keener

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟐: formal wear with steven grant

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟎: sex toys with ellie williams

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟏: hate sex with blue jones

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟑: dirty talk with santiago garcia

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟒: lingerie with llewyn davis

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟔: face sitting with llewyn davis

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟑𝟎: cunnilingus with poe dameron

!!please note that this post will be updated with the links once I post the fics, and I also only put the days I'm 100% done with for the moment. I'm currently writing for other prompts that aren't on this list yet, and I'll add them once the fic in question is finished. I don't wanna announce something I will never post in case I give up what I started writing or can't make it on time:)

(please reblog if you want to help me get more visibility on this lol)

[moonxknightx]

Oscar Isaac, the love of our lives

[spacecowboyhotch]

happy slut month my friends! here’s the hub for my collection of kinky blurbs for October using the lovely @flightlessangelwings’s list, you can find that here. disclaimer: all content on this masterlist is 18+/NSFW. i will block you if it is not clear that you are 18+.

day 2: public w/ aaron hotchner

day 4: forced orgasm (& hate sex & chocking) w/ carmy berzatto

day 6: phone sex w/ jake lockley

day 7: soft & slow (& cocking warming) w/ miguel o’hara

day 12: formal wear w/ steven grant

day 13: bodyworship w/ aaron hotchner

day 15: against a wall (& voice kink) with jonathan levy

day 16: lap dance w / aaron hotchner

day 23: begging w/ marc spector

day 25: breeding w/ cowboy!din

day 30: cunnlingus w/ santi

day 31: smoking w/ aaron hotchner

let me know what taglists you want to be on if any (18+ only): 1) hotch, 2) oscar characters 3) pedro characters 4) the bear fx

[h0unds-of-h3ll]

Lover’s exchange

After submitting your final. Jonathan’s more than intrigued as to where the inspiration comes from.

Jonathan Levy x reader smut.

Word count: 8k

Viewers beware you’re in for a scare with the: fluff, smut, rough smut, VERY EXPLICIT, age gap, fingering, blow jobs, eating out, unprotected sex, gagging, anal play, ass eating, overstimulation, coercion, consenting adults, power control, breeding kink, recorded masturbation, explicit language & themes, dark themes, drinking, smoking, rough smut, hair pulling, scratching, Jonathan is not as innocent as he seems, teasing, porn? Porn, teacher x student, somnophilia, implied face sitting, sensory deprivation kinda.

A/n: I literally took the idea of him being a professor and fucking ran full throttle with it. Can be an au! I guess. Head empty just him. Just a disclaimer that I’m not in college and nor have any idea what consists there. I apologize for any misconstrued ideologies! Most is written in the 3rd pov.

“A passionate encounter, one that has never been replicated since. That is what I want you to write about.”

He rolls the sleeves of his cardigan up to his elbows. The few students scattered throughout the small auditorium. He knows they’re not listening, but he continues nonetheless. 

“It can be with a spouse, a stranger, anything really. I’m giving you the freedom to express a feeling only you have felt so incomparable to anyone else.”

The electronic bell he’s grown to despise rattles. His students billow out into the side door, to their next seminar. He plops into the wheely chair with a long elongated sigh. He hopes it came across well, the prompt of their final. A feeling twists in his gut, not even half listening to him. He wants to help them prosper. He’s a lenient professor, one of the most laid back on the board. But there’s only so much he can brush past. Late work that’s a month overdue, students pleading for him to turn an F into a B- is exhausting. He takes his glasses off, hanging his head into his palms. He’s trying desperately to wipe away the misery that's clinging to his features. The soft sounds of shoes patting the ground. The loud chit-chat of the pupils communicating through the corridor. He fails to hear you sneak up on him. 

“Professor?”

His head whips upwards to the chirp of your elegant voice. Your hands tied around your school bag. A gentle smile creasing your cheeks. Hair flowing like a drape of a veil. Easy going on his aging eyes. His brain inputs into hyper drive, admiring you. You’re the only student who cares about their work. Who asked questions, who listened intently to the subject he taught. He’s taken a kindness to you that he has given no one else. Rounding up those fives into one hundred.

Giving you that plus you didn’t need, but makes your transcript look more polished. You never spoke to him about subjects outside of education. But you always came to him to broaden your knowledge to keep your work proficient. You’re smart and charming. Pulchritudinous even. (A word that he came across in your work that means beautiful.) He feels immense guilt. Pushing his blurred gaze to the side of his desk. More suitable for the atmosphere. He shouldn’t think of you in such a way. He can’t help it now matter how hard he tries. 

“Yes? What is it?”

His voice is short and snappy. Cutting the rope that he’s tethered to. He punches himself for how your smile drops to a vacant expression. 

“I was wondering how uhm,”

You pause. Brows knitted on your smooth forehead. You look for the words that aren’t immature in the phrasing. 

“How much vulgar use you would allow.”

There's that sheepish smile again. He chokes on his saliva, blind eyes widening. The long curve of his nose is where he pushes his glasses back. He sees your unmasked beauty, and he’s sputtering. An unknown speech impediment develops as he racks his dumbfound skull for an answer. He loses the suaveness of a preceptor and the eager man he truly is comes to play. 

“I-, as long as it’s a salient contribution to the plot. As much as you’re comfortable with, I suppose.”

He applauds himself for coming off the slightest bit as composed. What do you mean by vulgar? Maybe you wanted to include paraphernalia or explicit language. But what if- you wouldn't, you are too put together to even indulge. But what if? You nod swiftly. Brightness swims in your eyes. 

“Thank you, pedagogue.”

Your idyllic body pivots walking through the big twin doors. He lets out a heavy heave exit his lungs, one that he didn’t realize he was holding. He leans down, pressing his febrile forehead onto his desk. He’s stupefied by the title. Pedagogue, really? He praised himself for being benevolent and you thought that he was austere? A new, fresh hoard of scholars enter his domain. He groans, wanting to bash his cranium into the wood. He doesn’t know how to feel. But the only thing he can think about while teaching his course is feeding you grapes in a lavish room in Israel. 

~~~

A week and a half later, Jonathan is sprawled out on his couch. A wine glass in hand, shitty cable on demand playing some nonsense. A pair of grey joggers low on his hips, a dark earthy tone sweater on shoulders. All wrapped together with a thin white chain with the Star of David draped on his sternum. He doesn’t really know why he wears it anymore. He doesn’t feel like he treasures his faith, cast from the religion. He doesn’t hold the practice to his heart. Especially not after the occurrences with Mira. The exact reason he sits alone in this big empty house.

Longing for Daughter’s presence. A distant glow of his laptop on the coffee table in front of him, pleading for him to do something, anything. His heart torn from the absent wishes of wanting his life to be different. Filled with artificial happiness. Loneliness puts him in a corner with no escape. He’s grown accustomed to the feeling, throughout his failed marriage, he knows it all too well. Ridden by the pain of it, something unfamiliar takes its place. Something stronger than isolation. Desolation. He’s felt like this for so long that he’d forgotten that there are other emotions. Like jouissance, similar to having a penchant for something. To have it for you. He knows deep down that it’s wrong.

Fuck he knows, he does and it will kill him. Shouldn't think of his student in such a desirous manner. But he can’t stop. Ever since you walked yourself into his class, he hadn’t gotten you out of his head. Daydreams he's living in with you. Different past lives he could’ve had with you. Every waking moment you’ve plagued him. Every off hand hungry exchange with Mira, he imagines you. He can’t get away from you. A deep breath emits from him. He scratches his forehead, lost in the thought of you. His laptop pings with a buzz. It seems that the universe has answered his prayers. He straightens his posture, setting the glass on the table before pulling the computer on his lap.

He adjusts his glasses; the glow glares off the glass spheres. His house is pitch black other than the distant television and the radiance in front of his face. He sets it flat on his lap, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. He uses the track pad and finds his notifications. You. You’ve sent him something, your email in his inbox. A pdf. Your semester final. You work his schedule like clockwork. It wasn’t due for another week and yet you’ve already finished. He’s already gotten a few messages from other disciples needing the date pushed back, but you’ve completed it. His heart soars, resembling something along the lines of being proud? No, appreciative. He remembers the words you spoke to him the day he gave the prompt. Vulgar.

How lovely you looked that day, but in his opinion you always looked like that. Somehow you looked even better that day. Chipper and gleaming like a morning dew. The cursor hovers over the link. He clicks, opening the document. The black words on a white sheet were gifted to him. Your introduction and citations at the top corner. The title in the middle. Lover’s exchange. He scrolls to the first paragraph, with a heavy heart and high hopes he begins. 

Act I

It’s midnight when they meet. A dark sky with twinkling stars. A lamppost with a spotlight they run through. An older man and a younger woman trailing after him. It’s forbidden among the laws of society because of the taboo. The way they dance through the night to his house. The two disregard the dirty looks. They only existed with each other in their world. They lied to one another, saying that the energy shared is just an exchange. An exchange of passionate encounters.

The feel of his salt and peppered beard on her skin, the marks he gives her after the exchange. In the end, it’s what they both wanted- needed. His prolonged fingers tied around her wrist, tugging. She sees his house. White picket fence almost as much as her tuition. In a diverse neighborhood with economic growth. The older man modeled an image of what an established man should be. Bittersweet. Reminds her of a family of four with a dog. Stability isn’t what this was. Unbridled lust is all it was. They go against the formal casualties of dinner. They run up the stone onto his porch. He fumbles with his keys to unlock his door. He’s nervous, twitching with excitement. He inserts the key, then he’s tugging her again. Into his home. The smell of spring and hominy hits her.

He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it into the distant living room. Turning to throw keys into a bowel. He pivots, his glasses glimmer with the faint light of the dark night. Concealing his dark eyes from her. He smiles, big and toothy. Imperfect teeth rewarded her. He curls a finger under her chin. His other resting on her shoulder. He tilts his head to the side, slotting his lips into hers. Rhythmic and precise. Walking her up into a wall, hands slithering under the jacket and peeling it off. He moves his head back, the coat that dwarfs her in hand. Long feathered lashes fan across his crimson cheeks. He puffs. His hands leave to discard her jacket. Only for one of them to wrap around her wrist to pull. Long strides bound her up his stairs, to the landing. She’s amazed how he didn’t trip and fall face-first into one of the steps.

He’s running up them and she’s trying her hardest to keep up. He barely opens his door before he pushes her inside. There’s no time for delicacies. He’s pulling at a ravenous pace at her clothes, her the same. They scatter like leaves throughout his bedroom. It wasn’t the first time this has happened and sure to be the last. But the way he looks at her is like a groom looking at a bride. Dopey eyed and filled with emotion. His fingers run up her arms, the hair standing up as he goes. The skin is as soft as velvet. She reaches, fingers touching his temples before removing his specs. He hates himself for gazing at her breasts. Watching the flesh, crease and undulate. The color of her nipples easily begins to fight for his favorite. She leans up on her knees, the bed pulling inwards by his thigh. She kisses the space between his brows.

His heart picks up at a speed a horse would gallop, and he begins to question everything. Such a pure girl is with him to do unspeakable things. She’s his first after the split. So why is he starting to develop feelings if all of it is just raw fucking and emotionless? But what if it wasn’t, what if he wanted something a little dangerous? Something he can’t bring up at those shitty dinner parties Mira dragged him to. The conferences among the board asking his marital status, he can’t and he won’t. His dirty secret in the hands of a younger untouched girl. In all honesty how can he not get attached? He remembers reading something years ago. An article about how the chemicals match and sync with the counterparts.

How it’s simply science to get attached. He shakes his head, dark curls painted grey moving on his head. He rids himself of his thoughts. One night a month, he has to make it good. The moon shines through the big window in the middle of the room. He lays her down, peppering kisses on her neck. Finding the places he knows she likes. She was so easy to him, he knew her like the back of his hand. Yet, he always seems to find something that he never knew. There were never fights or grudges between the two. They fuck like they actually like each other. His large hands grope at her sides. Making her squirm in his grasp. His knees pinch at the bottom of her thighs. Her legs wrapped around his long waist. His semi hard erection laid in the crevice between her thigh and mound. Her hands tied in his curls. Twisting and pulling at the follicles. She didn’t have to tell him what felt good, he can tell by the pulls. His nose skims across her skin, tasting and lapping at the saltiness.

Worshipping each inch with the utmost delicacy. He kisses down her sternum. Purposely avoiding her peaks. Down her stomach and there. He parts her thighs, crawling down her body. Wedging his broad shoulders between her thighs. His beard burning caresses into the inside. His curls are a soft contrast. His plush lips press a kiss on the few scars he can find. His hands go to the sides of her hips, under her thighs. He wiggles on his chest to grow closer to her wet heat.

She’s glistening, poor thing. He flattens his tongue from where her entrance is to her clit. Over her slit, not entering her folds. Oh. So he’s going to be a tease tonight. She can’t complain from the whimpers he’s getting from her. The jut of her hips grinding on his face. The soft shake of her thighs on the sides of his face. His hands come back to her cunt. His thick thumbs, coming to either side of her lips. Pulling them apart. He’s enamored, watching her contract then dampen. His breath fans over the expanse and she’s shivering.

Her grip on his hair tightening. His tongue snakes out from behind his lips. His nose brushed along the hood of her clit. He pushes the tip of his tongue onto her bundle of nerves. Kitten licking the bud. It’s so meticulous and thought out for no error that she knows he's planned this for a while now. This encounter was planned to a t with no spontaneity. His tongue pulls back and she whines. But his mouth doesn’t move, he shakes his head to plunge his head into her. He sucks through his teeth, pulling her clit up. The sharp pain makes her yelp, her back arching off his mattress. His chin digging into the lower half of her cunt. The wiry hair of his beard tearing into her sensitive folds. The hair most definitely being soaked with her arousal.

Her stomach churns and hot pleasure pools into her lower back. Her knuckles turning white, she’s only half sure that she’s pulling clumps of curls from his scalp. It’s just so thick and full of hair that she doubts anyone will notice. She’s close, too close. Been waiting for this moment since the last time she had seen him. Those tight khakis and the fucking cardigan she knows that are hiding stretched muscles. Toes curling into his sheets. One of his hands leaves, shifting his body to accommodate. Two fingers enter her rigid hole. She’s moaning high in her throat. Jerking her hips up into his stupidly sculpted face. Trying to leave his face only results in him lapping more feverishly. He just moves with such elegance that she’s hurting. Just from his mouth.

She’s bruised from his teeth never leaving her clit alone. He curls those protracted fingers in her cunt and she’s seeing stars as he pumps them. Her legs are tightening around his head. The thickness, the stretch of it all has her crumbling. Spasming on the coarse hair of his face, he coaxes her through it. Even if his jaw is cramping she doesn’t know, he just continues to drink from her. Spreading her open to devour farther. His fingers leave only to be replaced with his mouth. His tongue intruding her hole. Plugging her up with the muscle. He stays there until it seems she has calmed and she’s not scalping him. He shifts to pull up on his knees. His hands leave soothing circles on her hips.

Her eyes are closed and she almost looks like she’s sleeping but her panting chest he knows she’s in the sky right now. Like an angel, his angel. He lifts her, flipping her on her stomach. He lowers on his stomach. Pushing her legs apart. His fully hardened cock pushed into the mattress. He spreads the globes of her ass. Listening to that keen gasp. His lips part and a string of drool falls on her puckered hole. When his saliva meets the ring, she clenches and he’s groaning. His face meets between her cheeks to lick at the flesh. His nose went into the divot. His beard scraped her. The smell of her heavenly.

The feeling of being suffocated by her has him thrusting into the plush mattress. She fists her hands into the pillow by her head. Enthralled by the foreign feeling of his tongue digging into the forbidden part of her. He moves his face down to lick at her slit to bring it up to the dry hole. His tongue moistions his lips. He huffs before delving in once more. One of his hands is coming to knead her cheek. His thumb slowly pushed into the hole carefully. Drool runs down her face. She’s too tired to even move. The intrusion has her thighs slicked. He feels his cock pulsing when he has her take the first knuckle. He doesn’t care if she cums again, he's just eating to devour. Eating from the purest of fruits. His sac tightens up. A couple of shallow thrusts and he’s done. The stickiness caught between the sheets and his paunchy stomach.

He moans, his mouth leaving her. During his onslaught he didn’t realize that his thumb was fully inside her. His palm pressed flushed to the curvature. He’s amazed at the sight. Saddened when he pulls the digit out of her. He lays on his back by her, on his side of his bed. Skin damp with sweat. Dark skin filled with precipitation. He knows that he just committed a crime. That if someone finds out he’d be in a penitentiary. That he couldn’t go back to whatever the fuck normal was in his life. He couldn’t go back into the comfortable life of not sleeping with his student. So he ponders the question as to why it feels so good if it was such an incriminating thing. He comes to the conclusion that being a saint only lasts so long. And he has to admit that this feeling of being a sinner provides so much more exuberance. 

Interlude I

Jonathan has to take a step away. He can feel his lungs closing in. He’s wheezing, his face buzzing under his glasses as he grows light-headed. Fuck. Why is his mouth so dry? He pushes his laptop to the cushion beside him. Lifting with the crack of gas between his bones. He walks into his kitchen, standing tall to grab a clear glass. He returns to his fridge, pushing the lip into the fridge’s mouth. The dispenser spews cold water. His chest heaves as he can’t breathe. Not now, please, not now.

His head hurts, his temples tingling. His vision waved in and out. He placed the glass on the island. Hastily pulling open drawers. Panic brews in his stomach. A stone dropping his heart to the ground. Fuck, where is it?! He curses himself for never leaving it in the same spot. His ego was too inflated to believe he needed to know where it was. That he didn’t need it to live. His hands blindly pulled junk out, throwing it onto the tile. In the very back of the sinks cabinet he finds it. He pulls the inhaler between his lips. Pushing the top down for ten seconds, inhaling. Keeping it in for fifteen, then exhaling. His frame deflates with the small thing in hand.

He smiles with sharp pearls up at his ceiling. Trying to push the feeling of a hysteric laugh boiling up his throat. Down to his belly. How fucking absurd this was! He almost went into an asthma attack because of some erotica. Reading erotica that you wrote. His eyes fall to the open drawer that pushes into the bone in his hip. He cranes his neck, finding the pack of cigarettes. Now it makes sense. The inhaler and smokes shoved into the back so an eager eye couldn’t easily find them. Even himself. He trades the inhaler for the pack. It hits the back with a thud. He flips the tab open, only finding two white sticks and his lighter shoved into the side. Thank fucking god. Taking one of the cigarettes between his fingers, he slots it onto the top of his ear.

His curls are trying to push it free, so he pushes it down. Throwing the pack that he’d go back to later on the marble. He’s so warm. Almost burning with sweat. His fingers tie around the bottom of his sweater. Lifting it over his head and tugging off the sleeves. He hisses at the cold air hitting his bare skin. His chain hitting his chest. He tosses his sweater onto the island. He takes the cigarette back behind his ear to his parted lips. Grabbing the lighter, he cups the flame; the embers alighting. He shoves the lighter in his pocket. Inhaling for ten seconds, holding it for fifteen, exhaling. The taste and the scent makes him wonder why he’d ever try to stop. Mira and his kid, but now that they’re both gone.

Leaves him with no excuses. He doesn’t have to half step out the door because of the pungent smell. Doesn’t have to hide his habits. His stomach contracts with each breath. His mind slowly easing into standby. He’s thinking about emailing you back. Asking how you came up with this explicit idea. Did you experience it first hand? Did you want to? He smiles, he thinks of himself as more than a willing candidate. He wanted to say that he absolutely seethed the fluids that you explained so beautifully. But he couldn’t. The way you painted the actions wasn’t humanly, it was mystical.

He’s impaired with his way of thinking. He’ll never think of such acts as he used to. The cigarette burns the pads of his fingers. He takes one last breath in before flicking it into the garbage disposal. The flame dies instantly. He sighs out a gust of smoke. Grabbing the glass of now lukewarm water and sitting on his couch. Almost groaning as he spreads out. The tv plays some superhero movie that he’s never seen. One of the Wolverine ones. He watches the claws swipe through what only he can presume is a villain. Taking a swig of the water his chest erupts into shivers. He places it by the wine. Rubbing his palm on his sweats, he attempts to regain his consciousness. With a deep sigh he grabs his computer by his thigh and reads. 

Act II

The call rings on his computer. A loud pinging noise with an incessant buzz fills the room of his study. He nearly jumps out of his skin. He’s going to get caught by her invitation. Soon he accepts. It’s in the middle of the night and Mira is up in his room, his Daughter fast asleep. She was a mess that one, not willing to sleep if he didn’t act out her stories. He was a knight in tonight’s redemption. His heart hurts. Fuck, he’s going to have to be careful. Since Mira came back from her trip, he has been paranoid. He honestly didn’t give a shit about her relations.

He was too invested in talking to his inamorata. Because of Mira’s arrival, he hadn’t gotten to in half a month. Missing their encounters. Yearning for them. It’s driving him insane, losing contact. She smiles up at him through the viewfinder. It’s pitch black and he can only make out her face. The light from her screen is the only one emitting luminosity. She’s under a surface. A blanket? He smiles. How perfect. Such a rellrounded girl hiding like a child. Although, he pouts solemnly, craving to see her beauty forthright. 

“You’re like Batman brooding in his cave.”

He stifles a laugh, biting his lip. Smiling wide he nods. 

“Maybe I am. You can’t debunk it.”

She smirks, eyes lighting up at the playful banter. He’s missed this, missed the poking at each other to receive a reaction. He’s always surrounded by chaos and fighting. Being around her, it seems that such things don’t exist. Their world is a utopia, and he’s happy if it’s only them who survive there. 

“Pretty sure that Batman isn’t a professor.”

He nods. She’s as quick as ever, keeping him on his toes. It’s a battle to make her not quirk a response. There’s always a reply. She’s just so responsive. He licks his lips, throwing in the bait to see her riposte. 

“Pretty sure that Batman’s cock isn’t as big as mine.”

Ah, yes. He brings out the grotesque themes of their relationship. The meaningless fucking that has blossomed into a desire to see her. Kiss her lips and cheeks. Cradle her head into his chest, wondering if she can hear his heart soar. He needs to remind himself that he can’t mingle with her. Be treated like he's twenty years younger. Maybe his response is ludicrous and she will be turned off from the bluntness. She’s so detached from it all that she doesn’t even blink an eye.

She barks out an electronic laugh before clamping a palm over her mouth, eyes wide. Now he wants to know why his cock is growing at the sight. A fetish he didn’t know he had, most likely. He wonders if her roommate is there. The idea has him hardening instantly. Trying to keep quiet for him, like he is for her. He sees her shift, leaning over the camera to retrieve some earbuds she’s used in his class. Her breasts were hidden under a baggy shirt. He can see the outline however and he’s filled with out righteous lust to find that she’s not wearing a bra. She sits back on her thighs, inputting the wire into her laptop. Two white wires lead into one connected source. 

“So dirty, old man.”

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. Forearms broadening. His white tee hugging his muscles. The Star of David necklace wrapped around that thick neck. He quirks up a thick eyebrow on his forehead. Questioning her status. He takes quick notice of the way her eyes flick downwards on her screen. She’s never had a problem with his age before, and now she has something to say about it? He’s taken aback. He remembers her saying something that him being older was alluring. That she values the intellect he holds. He turns it onto her. 

“Should be worried about what this old man is going to do to you, little girl.”

He says, voice dipping an octave lower. His arms uncross and a hand goes to cup himself over his clothed cock. Teasing himself. His hair pushed back carelessly. Not in his pristine style. It’s nice seeing him in such a way. Laid back and careless. Only wanting to talk to the girl he’s interested in. She bets he smells so divine. Like honey and milk. Her thighs seared with ripples of pleasure forming. The domestic life he's letting her glimpse into. It’s been too long since she’s last had him. She hasn’t even looked in any other male presence since him. She needs him to let her release the pent up frustration. But she can’t, not without his help. 

“Such as?”

She pries. Sitting cross-legged on her twin bed. She moves the monitor up her body to her face. His mouth waters. One of her hands plays with the loose shirt she has on. She’s toying with him and he’s not stupid. He knows how the younger woman plays but he bites, anyway. 

“I had this dream about you.”

She tilts her head to the side, hands skimming flat up to her breasts. 

“Oh?”

She whispers and he wettens his lips. The hand that was cupping his length runs up his torso. Under the loose waistband of his sweats. Toying with the ribbon like ties. 

“Yeah, thinkin’ about it a lot, actually. We were in Israel,”

“Israel?”

She asks, shocked. Eyebrows rocketing across her forehead. His hand follows downwards to the expanse of his plush thigh. Close to where he needs, but sweeps the thumb by the side of his sac. He refrains himself from rolling his eyes in the back of his head. 

“Mhm. In Israel, in a mansion.”

“A mansion?”

She questioned again. And there’s that quick thinking he loved. Her lips perk into a smile as she rolls a bud in her fingers. A frown deepens on his face. His fingers scratched at the base of his cock. 

“Yes, now shut up so I can finish.”

He spits out sternly. Not an ounce of jest in his words. Her mouth closes immediately, hips bucking at the tone. Similar to the one he uses at work when a student did something wrong. Fuck, she should do something bad that would make him use it more. He cups his balls, and he’s stretching the elasticity of his joggers. The head of his cock pushing up at the side, begging to be let free. He doesn’t reprimand himself. 

“In Israel in a mansion. I and you, on the silk sheets of a bed. However, I was on my back and you were,”

His lips part as he pants. His hand wraps around the base, holding himself. His head leans back, and he sighs. He builds up suspension with his little groans. He knows that she’s hanging on every single breathy moan. On every word he’s ridding her of. 

“You were dripping on my lips.”

His hips thrust up into his hand. Her eyes widen and she pulls at her nipples. Breathing fastening to where she’s gasping for breath. Oh. Then a thought runs through her pretty head. What if he was sleeping next to his spouse. Dreaming of her while he rests. Shivers run up her spine. 

“I could smell and taste you, your thighs around my head. And pretty girl, fuck-“

As he starts to fist himself, finally jerking himself off at a rapid pace. He’s lost for words, utterly and completely. His thumb traces over his head and he’s almost crying. God, he misses her. Not just her cunt that’s too tight, but the smell of her. The softness and linen smell of her. The taste he can’t have. He lifts his hips up, pushing his sweats down his broad legs. Encompassing her a view, he knows she’ll be appreciative of. She always praises his cock. Always wants to have it in her, near her. He didn’t know if he corrupted her to be such a filthy girl or if she already was. He doesn’t know, but he mumbled praises about how good she looks. 

“I miss you.”

He moans heavily, almost where his scrupulous voice lives. One of her hands travels under her panties. Quickly rubbing short little circles on her clit. Her head hits her wall with a soft thunk. He wants to know why he wants to kiss it, to say that she’s okay. Treat her like a child. The muscles in his thighs draw up and he’s whining. 

“I miss you most. Making me stay in this hell.”

She gripes. He should’ve known she would say something like that. The college was below par, to say the least. The people were insane. People desecrate in the halls, let alone fornicate. She was close to finishing, about a semester off. So she shut her mouth and lived through it. He made it less horrible, worthwhile. But without him there, it hurts more so than she wished to admit. He was her saving grace, and he wasn’t here, so who was going to save her?

As much as she hid the yearning feeling, he knew and felt similar, if not intensified. If he could do it without being expelled from the system of education, he would take her away. Move out of this godforsaken place and start fresh, with her by his side. But the world wasn’t promising. His eyes soften from the cold black coffee to a warm, hot chocolate. Swimming in remorse behind the clouds of glass. His throat tightens up as he yanks languidly at himself. He feels like shit and it was hard to tiptoe around Mira. He wants better for the young girl in front of the screen. She deserves better than him. He swallows the boil down his throat. 

“I’m sorry. I really am, sweetheart. I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”

He sees the way her body grows stiff. The way she usually does when she is close to her orgasm. The calm before her thrashing chaos. His hips buck instantly at the sight. He can feel his cum rolling down his fingers, getting caught in the webs of his fingers. 

“Oh, yeah? How’re you going to do that, old man?”

He sighs, shaking his head. Hiding a smile. She tears him up through and through. Done to the bone. That sharp mouth of hers makes his skin crawl. Every time he lives in fear of her response. He thinks of his answer. How was he going to make it up to her? Before he knows it, he’s babbling. 

“Next weekend, the paperwork will be served. You can ngh-“

A specific tug has him on the verge of flying head first off into his peak. The fantasy of her in his house parading around in one of his sweaters that is no doubt too big for her has him rolling. He pants furiously, in need of his inhaler. 

“Y-you can stay with me until graduation.”

Time freezes as his voice gravels out those precious words. Her heart picks up and the world swirls around her. Such a funny thing, this occurrence. Her huddled under a blanket, laptop sat on a tiny bed that barely fit her. Earbuds tangled, and her voice was barely audible trying to keep quiet to not awaken her roommate. But she’s fingering herself, hand grabbing at her tit. Her shirt rose on her waist. And him. Hiding from his not so secret family. In his den, half curled over, biting his fist as he cums so hard it’s spurting onto his white tee. Her saving grace has offered her salvation. Out of this horrid place. For a limited time. She can’t think straight, but she’s jumping on the promise. 

“Deal.”

His heart grows too big for his chest. His tawny cheeks burned red. He only half thought she would agree. The haven he's going to reside in with her has his cock twitching. A few pearls leaving his tip. He watches her face turn into a masterpiece. Eyes closed, mouth open, fingers curling. Legs parted wide. He tugs off his shirt. Careful to not let his face touch the dampness on the surface. Brown skin with defined lining, tufts of dark hair across makes her cross-eyed. Legs spasming closed and a harsh bite onto her bottom lip to stifle the too obscene whimper. He wipes himself off with his once white shirt, tugging up his sweats. He smiles, a crooked grin. His index points at her half-lidded eyes. Her fingers pulling out as a pool forms under her hips. He pushes an eyebrow on his forehead. Pointing a finger at the screen. In his authoritative panty dropping voice he says. 

“Under one exception: you can’t call me old man unless it’s under adulation.”

Act III

The first night was torture. He didn’t even cum, just toyed with her body into the multiple she’s given him. She’s a rag doll at this point. Her body is limp to where she can’t even lift a finger without her pussy fluttering. After she physically could not give him anymore of the high. With eyes dumb and cunt sore, she laid there.

He kissed her forehead, whispered sweet words, and left. Leaving to grab a washcloth, made sure the water was warm, not hot. Pressed it between her thighs that had dark sores where his beard had been. Carefully swiping up and down to capture the essence of her. He threw it into the hamper beside his bed, opening a drawer to grab a fluffy blanket. The soft material made his palm tickle. He guided her to lift her hips up so she wouldn’t have to lay in a puddle. He didn’t have the heart to make her stand on wobbly legs. If she could stand. By the way, she’s wincing at his touch. He’s not so sure. She turns on her side, reaching up to press a soft kiss to his lips. Whining when he leaves but shortly falling asleep after. Her face to the side of the bed.

Mouth parted, eyebrows pinched as she dreams. He raises the duvet onto her scorching hot skin, tucking the hem under her chin. There’s nothing sexual about it but his heart bursts. He smiles to himself before walking into the bathroom. Shutting the door the quietest he possibly can. He opens the shower door, turning the faucet on. The pellets hit the tile with a heavy splatter. He takes his glasses off; the steam fogging them up, anyway. Putting them by the sink before stepping inside. He closes his eyes, basking in the warmth. The dampness on his skin exudes now being cleansed. He doesn’t know why he feels like it’s necessary, why he’s obligated to bathe after. He just feels the need to. He can’t have her lingering on him; it'll drive him crazy. Even the aftershocks he gets after eating her cunt stay in his beard for weeks after. It’s almost haunting him. Taunting him with her absence. But if he could, he would live between her thighs. The cloth in his hands starts to soak up the grime off his chest. The suds of his soap coats him, making him glimmer with bubbles.

After he’s imagined what he’d do if she was occupying the small rectangle with him, he turns the faucet off. Stopping to grab a towel, dabbing over the falling droplets. Running the fabric over his crevices. He wraps it around his long torso. One hand holds it in place, while the other grabs his glasses. He pushes his wet hair off his forehead, a few straggling curls stay sticken to his face. He looks fucked, to say the least. Streaks of red run down his chest, to his lower stomach. Just a few inches away from his cock. He knows it’s worse on his back. He can feel the welts as he moves. His beard glistens with the water that’s still captured there. He’s enamored by how lean he’s gotten. The muscles in his body are growing taut. He’s astonished since he hasn’t done anything out of his regimen. The only thing he has change was the amount he’s been fucking her. With his now ex spouse out of his house he can do whatever he pleases whenever he wants.

The only thing stopping him is himself, the salt in his hair isn’t just for the looks. His libido is high but his body can’t keep up with him. With one more quick glance he strides out of his bathroom. Seeing the soft inhale and heating her snore does something to him that’s inexplicable. That thing makes his cock harden. A tent forms in the towel and he rolls his eyes. Maybe his body was intact with his drive. His grip on the towel grows. The fucking things this girl makes him do will be the death of him. He walks to the side she’s sleeping on. Cherishing her beauty to mind. A strange idea comes to his head during this viewing. He slips his glasses off his face, precipitation stains the glass. He pauses, thinking momentarily before slotting them onto her face.

In his opinion the thin wired frame with the hazy specs suits her better. They’re awkward with how they’re perched since she’s asleep but he likes the look of it. She shifts and her mouth falls open wider. He’s a bad man, he tells himself as he drops the towel to the floor. His cock in hand, he works himself. His eyes blurry without his prescription, nonetheless he focuses on her face. He runs his thumb over the tip and he’s groaning. He leans forward slightly. Positioning himself over her lips. He rubs the ruddy head over them. Smearing his pre-cum on the bow. He bites his lips, brows furrowed as he pushes in. He’s only sitting in her mouth, unmoving. So much for that shower.

He ruts his hips so half of his length is laid out on her tongue. She’s asleep, he reminds himself. But with the way her lips are curling around him makes him think that he’s wrong. His hand remains wrapped around the hilt. Trying to restrain himself. He pushes small thrusts into her mouth, half in, half out. His other hand pushes her hair from her face. He loses himself and finally pushes his length fully into her mouth, and down the back of her throat. She gags around him and pulls back startled. But surely she’s awake by now. She’s sputtering around him and pulls his sloppy wet self out of her mouth. Her eyes blink dreamily up at him under his glasses, her eyes magnified. He smiles, only one of the sides of his mouth peaking up. 

“Mornin’ pretty girl.”

She looks at him, still disoriented. Her head whips to the window. Dark as ever. 

“It’s not?”

His head tilts downwards as a nod. Agreeing with her. 

“I know. Just go with it, yeah?”

She bows her head. Smiling up at him. He walks over to his side of the bed, laying down by her. He scoots until his chest is pressed against her back. She can feel how hard he is on her ass. His arms wrap around her waist, under her breasts. Hands flat and fingers spread. She pulls a hand up to his hair, scratching her nails lightly on his scalp. Her fingers damp from how saturated his curls are. She wonders if he’s making a wet spot on his bed, similar to hers. He nuzzles his face into her neck, his beard brushing her. He kisses along her shoulder, craning his neck. 

“I honestly don’t know how you can see.”

He snorts a laugh. He can’t really. Without them, he can barely make out distant shapes. 

“With practice makes perfect.”

She scoffs as one of his hands travels down her stomach. Playing with the short hair on her mound. 

“Do you honestly believe that?”

He thought about his answer for a moment. Before nodding into her shoulder. His fingers cupped her thigh to lift it over his hip. 

“Can I kiss you?”

He asks softly, almost a whisper. She grants him his wish. He lays flat on his back, pulling her to his chest. Her legs were on either side of his waist. Her face to his. Noses brushing. 

“Hi.”

She smiles widely. His hands cup the side of her face before kissing her. Long and slow. Full of insecure thoughts and emotions. He still hasn’t come to terms with how he feels about her, but all he knows is that he cares deeply about her well-being. And if he makes her happy, then he’s glad to be of use. He doesn’t want to say he loves her, because the word doesn’t match with how strongly he adores her. What he thought was love with Mira was the complete opposite of his flower. Every breath, every beat of his heart, belongs to her. He’s not a sap, but if it were to ever come to it, he’d die for her. His beard scratches against her face.

He simply lives for her. He feels her fingers in the wefts of his hair, massaging the thickness. He pouts everything he feels about her into the kiss. He hopes that she’ll understand, and the grinding of her hips. His work is being taught. As her tongue touches his, she can taste him. Marlboro cigarettes and coffee that he probably brews himself. The scent floods into her. Cinnamon and lavender, she wonders if that’s from his soap or his cologne. His hands flatten over her back, pushing her down to him. Her breasts are full against his chest. He’s kicked into a part of his brain that’s primal. Eyes locked on her nipples that barely peek out from beneath her. She pulls away, both parties huffing for air. The glasses slipping off her face. 

“How do you do anything with these?”

She pulls herself up on his chest to slide them up the bridge of her nose. He tilts his head to the side, admiring her. She’s just so alluring. The way she holds herself to the divots in her skin. He loves all of it. She lifts an eyebrow, confused. 

“What?”

She asks, and he shakes his head. Wet curls swaying. 

“Nothin’, you just look beguiling.”

She rolls her eyes, scrunching up her nose. She slaps his chest, laughing. He smiles.  

“You think I’m deceptive?”

He blinks cluelessly. Her face snapping into a pout. 

“That’s mean, ya know, calling someone a liar.”

His lips twitch up into a ghost of a smile. He tries to hide it but she’s so adorable when he gets under her skin. 

“Remind me to never compliment you.”

He mumbles, he pokes fun at her, and she groans. Exaggerating an eye roll. 

“Could've said gorgeous or something.” 

He shakes his head. In an instant, she’s on her back, and he’s hovering above her. His cock seated over her core. It quivers by the touch. She’s more stunned at how hard he is. It seems that he’s never soft. 

“Those don’t suit you, little cherub.”

His nose nudges into her jaw as he kisses her neck. Sucking the marks he wanted for the past half year so she can’t hide it. What spurs him on is the thought that when the questions arise as to how she got them. She can’t say the older professor who fucks her until she can’t walk. He wonders what her answer will be. He kisses down her neck. 

“I enjoy beguiling. Bewitching even.”

He kisses her collarbone, nipping. Before licking the skin. 

“Body and soul.”

He grins when she hits him on his shoulder. 

“What a fraud! Stealing from Austen.”

He sighs, laying his head between her breasts. He wraps his arms around her. She massages his back. His breath fanning on her chest. 

“I can’t win, can I?”

He sighs, kissing the side of her tit. 

“Afraid not, poet.”

He leans up, his forearms on either side of her head. She pulls her legs up and over his hips. 

“If I’m a poet, then you shall be my muse.”

She nods, agreeing.”

“So it shall.”

The end of her sentence turns into a breathy whine as he enters her. The ruddy head splitting her open. His length is halfway before he moves out, then pushes more. His face pushed into the side of her neck, continuing to mark her, then soothe her wounds. She’s crying, loud yelps and pleas for him to fuck her. To use her. He rolls his hips subtly, long languid strokes. Never pushing into that spot deep inside her. He doesn’t need to with the way she’s contracting around him. Her cunt gulped him up with the loudest squelch. The hair around the base of him scratches along her folds. 

“So noisy, neighbors are going to hear.”

She cries louder, and he smirks. Slotting himself fully into her, all the way down his shaft. His balls up against her ass, her legs crushing him. And then he moves. His hips lifting back, the only thing in her pussy the tip. He rams his hips back into her. Pushing her up the bed. She yelps, clawing at the bruises on his back. It was hot and electric, bounding the two. Emitting a currency shared. Pulling and taking. He lifts himself on his hands, flat by her head. Pulling his knees under her thighs. He pulls her ankle to his shoulder. Holding it between his shoulder and neck.

His hair hides his eyes, but she’s sure that they’re wild with lust. His hand wraps around the bones in her ankle. He thrusts deeper and shallow into her. He can feel her walls convulse around him, signaling that she’s close. The cacophony of the clap and shared moans has him nearing, too. His mouth was hot and soaking on her ankle. When she cums, her already abused cunt pushes his cock out. He stills, sitting back on his calves, waiting for a reaction. He lets her leg fall. He watches her cum pour onto the blanket and between her thighs. She pushes a hand to his abdomen, telling him to wait. Her pussy fluttered. 

“You want me to stop?”

He asks, running the crown of his cock over her folds. 

“No.”

She whimpers, and he growls. His glasses on her face a-skewed. 

“What do you want, pretty girl?”

“For you to cum.”

He pistons his hips into her in one fluid thrust. Buried himself in and out of her rapidly. He bends her leg to her chest. He kisses her as he floods her pussy. His lips leave as he pants for air. He mouths at her jaw, his eyes closed. He fixes the position of his glasses on her nose. Letting your leg to fall to his side. He doesn’t pull out; he lets the fluids sit in her. Marinating in her womb. He lays his feverish forehead on hers. Breathing her in, basking in the feeling of her. Afraid that if he moves, he won’t have her anymore. So he stays, cock inside her. Body collapsed like a weighted blanket on her. She plays with the hair at the nape of his neck. As he kisses the bruises on her neck. He knows he is a sick man, hoping that her reproductive system takes. 

Interlude II

Jonathan takes his glasses from his eyes. Staring blankly at the last sentence. Trying to wrap his head around. What exactly did he just fucking read? There’s an italic at the end at the bottom. His stomach churns and twists disturbingly. There’s no way you didn’t write this about him. Most of it was unnervingly accurate, things he hadn’t told a single soul about. But you did. You knew everything. Was he really that easy to read? Before he can even recoup, his fingers are typing in a three digits of one hundred. In the suggestions, he writes:

“Meet me at the coffee place on Broadway at ten am. I’d like to discuss your afflatus.”

And with that, he shuts the brim of his computer. His head tilted to the ceiling. Dreaming of what he was going to talk to you about in the morning. 

The end?

[millerscoffee]

Congrats on your 500 😎

I was thinking...“Touch me there. Right there.” with Jonathan Levy

boy, can i ever - thank you nonnie! hope you enjoy ♡

late night

770 words | jonathan levy x f!reader (professor x student)

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: professor x student, cock warming, creampie, pet name (honey mostly), praise kink, no use of y/n

A/N: this is part of my 500 followers celebration running until 9/9 ♡

You’ll keep my cock warm, won’t you, honey?

That was an hour ago.  You’d been fooling around with Professor Levy for a couple months at this point – Jonathan in the middle of his divorce, and you thought every time you saw him you discovered something new about him, but nothing quite topped this evening in his office: the door locked, the blinds shut, your thighs quaking.

He promises you no one is around, his hands teasing your skirt up, bending you over the desk.  Sits down behind you to peel your underwear to your ankles before working you up just enough to sit you down on his length.

“P-Professor,” your voice is shaky, your skirt hiked up to your low back, his slacks at his thighs, you could tell how wet you were around him.  The collection of your sex makes things slicker as the minutes ticked.  You felt his palm warm over your shoulder and that alone made your insides flutter around him, “Just a minute, honey.  Alright?  I’m grading papers, you know that.” his dominant hand held a red marker, and the warmth moves from your shoulder to your hip on the opposite side.  You gasp at his greedy touch, the way his fingers dig into the skin and curvature there.  You can’t help it, you shift enough to make his cock hit your cervix.  “Ooh,” you squeak, perspiration making its appearance at the nape of your neck.  Everything felt sticky.

Your eyes wander to the paper just to the side of you, focus on his hand critiquing and it’s all blurry.  Your brain is useless like this, and you need movement.  “Please,” beginning to beg, you wonder if that would be of any use, but you can practically feel him ignore you leaving you to whimper, burying your face in your arms.

“You’re being so good for me, you know,” his words are distant, like he’s speaking at you rather than to you, but the praise lifts your head, fingernails clawing at the desk you bite the plush of your bottom lip.  You can’t help but gasp when he puts his pen down.

“How can I help?” He's so attentive, even when he’s busy, and it makes you appreciate him more than Mira ever could.

“N-need to move.  Need you to touch me.”

“Lean back up, honey.”

So you do as you told, head rests back against his shoulder and he ghosts his hands over your body until you’re trembling with need.

“Touch me,” your pathetic pleas fall into his mouth, his tongue lapping and exploring past your lips – his hand reaching for your split clit.  “Here?” Professor Levy teases, his middle finger flicking at the nub teasingly before rolling it under the pads of his fingers, and you’re gone – panting and clawing at anything you can.  “There, there – right fucking there!”  Jonathan’s mouth stops you from making too much noise, his hips only shifting up for a handful of thrusts before you’re clenching and it sends you to your orgasm as the rush of heat pools from your core out to your extremities.  It’s floaty, blissful as you make sweet noises into his mouth, and he’s eager to hum against the current.

“Fuck,” he gruffs, not slowing down the movement of his now eager hips work doubletime, pawing at your tits through your blouse.  “You’re so beautiful, I’m so lucky,” his praises leave you blushing, nails curl into his naked thighs and you nod hopelessly, “Give it to me, J,” you bite your lip in the desperation and that sends him over the edge, spilling hot ropes inside of you to feel so complete.

Moments pass, and you feel the twitching of his inevitable comedown.  You’re both breathless, fighting for oxygen as you see the side of his lip twitch in a charming smile.  “Don’t think you’re leaving.”  you swallow hard, pulling back to get a good look at him and you shake your head, laughing without the proper oxygen – head dizzy.

“Death of me, Professor Levy.”

“I don’t hear you complaining,” Jonathan hums, swiping his fingers over his tongue from where they once landed on your middle.

Your eyelids are heavy when you adjust yourself – still inside, to curl your legs into your lap, the side of you now nestled into his chest.

“Wouldn’t dare do such a thing,” you muse, lips painting over the side of his neck, the slightest of him spills from your entrance.

He pets your hair back, leaving you to a comfortable silence as he goes back to finishing his work, and it feels so good at this moment.  Perfect.

[shivroysslut]

thinking about my fictional men x plus size reader

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

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

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.

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.

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