#jonathan levy imagine

[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."

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#Jonathan Levy x Reader #Jonathan Levy x You #Jonathan Levy/Reader #Jonathan Levy/You #Jonathan Levy fic #Jonathan Levy imagine #Kinktober #Kinktober 2023

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Summary: Sipping from the other's drink

Pairing: Jonathan Levy x Reader

Warnings: author makes certain claims about academia that may or may not be true and are entirely biased because of her own experience with it (and a huge thanks to @pennyserenade for reading this over for me)

Word Count: 2.3k

Jonathan’s brought you to a summer mixer at the Department Head’s family home, designed to maintain connections through the faculty during the slow months of the summer as well as create new ones with the incoming graduate students to the department. 

A newly-minted associate professor for the fall term, Jonathan at least doesn’t have to worry about students of his own. 

Really, he’s only here for the drinks. 

Academics’ pockets, though they don’t usually run deep, are quite generous when it comes to their alcohol, perhaps a sort of defence mechanism when it comes to dealing with the stress of their way of life. 

Everyone, however, seems to be at ease. It’s a late afternoon sort of function in order to encourage them to drink as much as they would like without feeling guilty about it, and loosened from the heavy burden of tweeds and thick wools, the faculty are clad instead in linen, cool and airy. 

Tongues are loose, smiles are quick to be given. People have forgotten the relentless competition they’re usually in when it comes to funding, to office space, to good class slots. 

All in all, he thinks that today has been a good day to introduce you to the people he’s going to passive aggressively work with for the rest of his life. 

He gazes across the room and finds the blue of your shirt, sticking out like a sore thumb in a sea of neutrals and whites. You’re talking to one of the faculty spouses, nodding your head and laughing. There’s a glass of pink lemonade in your hands, your hair falls around you as if you’re holding a secret within your chest. 

Jonathan yearns for you to be by your side again, to smell the perfume he bought for your six-month anniversary, the one you always spray into the crook of your neck because that’s always where he likes to press his face whenever he’s deep in thought. 

As if on cue, the conversation dies down and you drift back to his side. 

He marvels at how easily you’ve managed to fit yourself into this new crowd, how you laugh as the department fart tells you some lame joke that he’s probably told millions of others before you. You brush it off with grace and ease, I’ll talk to you soon, alright? 

It had taken him almost five years before he’d mastered that skill. The gentle brush off that made the other feel like you were doing them a favour. 

He loves you, that much he knows for sure. 

After the storm cloud of Mira and the past twenty years of his life had passed, he’d met you. As simple as that, as if the universe was only waiting for him before they let him hold onto the rest of his life like a delicate crystal glass. 

“Hi,” you come up close to him and Jonathan can smell your perfume and the strawberries on your breath. He wonders if he’ll be able to taste your drink if he kisses you long enough. 

He also wonders, as an addendum, how quickly he would lose his position if he did that. Despite all the shouting the university did about being progressive and open-minded, the tenured faculty members were still dreadfully hard-headed, old-fashioned. 

Jonathan supposes that he was too. Maybe he still is, simply by nature of his daily proximity to him on the same floor of the social sciences building, crumbling at the seams since the last of its renovations in the seventies. 

“Hi,” he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in close to him. There’s a glass of whiskey in his other hand that he doesn’t care much for anymore now that you’re here. He kisses the side of your head, brushes away some of your hair from your temple, “Enjoying yourself?” 

You giggle, it rings out like a fairybell. You lean up close to him and murmur in his ear, “You work with some very strange people.” 

He can’t help but laugh at that, turning his head to meet your sparkling eyes. “Yeah, I suppose I do.” 

“Very strange,” you muse again, looking out across the room. “And I thought you were the strange one.” 

That hits him in a funny way he wasn’t planning on it doing. He remembers once in high school his cross country running coach said she’d stepped, wearing thick-soled hiking shoes, on a pebble the wrong way and ended up having to go to physio for six months. 

He supposes he feels a little like that pulled muscle. 

He hums, tries to push down the blow you’d struck at him without realising it. 

“Strange?” 

“Mmhm,” your fingers drift around his waist and rest on top of his tummy, the one Ava had pointed out the other day in passing. “Strange, yeah. You got the whole, mysterious, hot, brooding professor thing going for you.” 

“And that’s strange to you?” 

You shrug. Jonathan feels the heat of your gaze against his face and he doesn’t feel like turning to meet it. Instead, he favours the sharp burn of whiskey. He ended up with a glass in his hand because some snot-nose had offered to pour him a drink and he’d been too much of a pushover and too concerned about what other people thought of him to say he preferred a red wine. 

You’re never like that. 

You were never like him; either because that’s who you were at your core, or because you’d manage to escape the way academia chipped away at one’s soul, until there was an empty, arthritis-ridden husk of a person by the time they reached tenure. 

Opposites did attract, he supposes. 

You were different from him. You weren’t afraid to drink the pink lemonade that had been left out for the few kids running around in the back garden, you weren’t afraid to call him weird if that’s what you thought of him. 

Jonathan wonders why it took you so long to say it to him. 

He’s about to try and pry the answer out of you when someone else approaches the two of you together. A newly-tenured professor whom Jonathan never really did get along with, particularly when he was working his post-doctorate and the guy had picked up an obnoxious habit of hanging around the kitchen coffee-maker and smacking his gum as loud as he could. 

There couldn’t have been anyone worse that could have showed up at the time. 

“Jonathan!” 

Something inside him curls into himself at the thought, and as if you could feel it, your arm wraps around him a little tighter. 

The man’s trying to make some small talk, the bare bones of it before he surely starts to boast of himself and his students and the latest hotshot fund he got because of his new tenure. 

“Hi,” you smile at him sweetly and make a green little sprout of something bad shoot up inside his stomach, a bitter taste lingering at the back of his throat. You introduce yourself as Jonathan’s partner and are just about to move to go away when he speaks up again, cutting you short. 

“I liked Mina more, Levy,” he grins and shows off his teeth like a predator. Against the off-white of his linen suit, they look even whiter, standing out like a sign against his tanned skin. “Shame you two had to end it the way you did.” 

Jonathan tries to remind himself that he doesn’t know how things ended with Mira. That it’s just another poke at him and his life to get a rise out of him. 

You smile at the guy again, there’s a sharper edge to it. His prickly rose. “Well, if you’ll excuse us.” 

Then you’re guiding him away from the stuffy room and towards a bench against the side of the house. There’s a full view of the backyard, the sloping apple tree and whispering aspens all around, the toddlers playing tag in shrill shrieks. 

He sits down with a low exhale, you follow beside him, slouching and shucking off your shoes. “Christ,” you mutter under your breath. 

It’s probably the most genuine thing he’s heard all afternoon and he can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “Yeah, sorry.” 

“You deal with that everyday?” It sounds like you’re pitying him. He wonders if that’s ever what Mira thought of him whenever he took her to these events. If she ever raised her eyebrows in surprise at each precise way you had to deal with everyone in the department. 

He swallows back his thoughts and nods, “More or less.” 

“Jonathan,” you shift and face him again. Still, he can’t bear to look at you anymore. Strange and Mira have started to float around his head like a crib mobile. “I…and you…” the rest of your words are lost to your breath as you turn around again, swearing quietly before reaching for his drink and taking a sip. 

He likes how your lips were on the same place where his was.  

The alcohol burns your throat and you grimace at him, “I didn’t know you liked whiskey.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Huh,” you seemed to have heard something stitched and laced into his words that he hadn’t noticed he’d put there in the first place. 

You weren’t much of a drinker. Yet another thing that Jonathan noticed when he started dating you. At New Years’ you had some champagne, small sips whenever you clinked glasses with the people around you before you’d pass your flute onto him to finish. 

Now that he thinks about it, that may have been your first sip of whiskey ever. 

Quite early on, once he’d taken you out on your fifth date and it was shaping out to be something serious like a marble statue carving, Jonathan had cracked open his ribs and showed you the bleeding insides of him. 

You’d taken some steps together quickly, probably too quickly if it meant that he doesn’t know now if you’ve ever had spirits before. 

That had been another thing he’d noticed when he’d started dating again, seriously and for real this time. Twenty years with a person leads to a tremendous collection of trivial information that he’s not sure he’ll ever fully be rid of again. 

It was strange to sit across from someone at dinner and not know how they took their coffee, what side of the bed they liked to sleep on, what order they unloaded the dishwasher and if they had a dishwasher anyways because the renting market is growing out of control. 

“Did you like it?” he asks suddenly, hoping to catch onto a trivial fact of yours, like collecting baseball cards or butterflies with a net. 

“Hm? Oh,” you look down at the whiskey glass and shake your head, handing it back to him. “Not really my thing.” 

Something still nags at him. Maybe it was a mistake bringing you here. You’re the only sober one out of all the guests. Even the host himself is growing rosy and red. It didn’t really look good to see that all your partner’s coworkers were borderline alcoholics, that they dealt with a tremendous amount of repressed trauma and stress and didn’t seek any help for it because of the size of their egos. 

Right then and there he vows to do better for you. He throws the rest of his drink out onto the garden, sets the glass down on the wooden bench with a heavy thud of well made crystal. 

“Do you really think me strange?” he asks you suddenly. Finally, after a long while, he meets your eye. 

“I…well,” you shrug and take in a slow breath. “Yeah, in certain ways. I think I do.” 

“I see.” 

Your words imbed themselves into his skin like shrapnel. 

“But…I don’t have a PhD, I can’t really…” you let out a breath and look out at the garden and the children playing. “Besides, I haven’t been divorced…I haven’t been in your shoes.” 

“I trust your opinion of me.” 

“It’s not that I think you’re strange necessarily,” you gesture back to the house and the rattle of chatter that keeps growing louder with each drink getting poured. “I…this is all very new to me. And I’m trying to understand what it’s like for you.” 

Jonathan starts to smile, “And how’s that going?” 

“Not very well,” you laugh and run your thumb against the rim of your glass. “I just drank whiskey for the first time.” 

He starts to laugh as well, and wrapping his arm around you, he pulls you into the side of his body. His other hand comes and takes your lemonade from your hands, sipping from it as well. 

It tastes like his childhood and hot summer evenings spent with his mother and his aunt, listening to gossip he shouldn’t have been listening to as their nimble fingers worked away with their knitting needles. 

“Do you wanna go home now?” 

“You still need to show face,” you muse quietly, tracing the outer seam of his pants with your finger. “They’re probably already starting to wonder where you’ve gone off to, and it’s going to hurt their frail little egos.” 

He barks out a laugh, and kisses the crown of your head, “God, I love you.” 

“I do too,” he hears the smile in your voice and it goes straight into his chest, wraps a couple pieces of his heart together and puts them back into place. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll entertain myself.” 

Jonathan kisses you this time, properly, the way he wanted to. Your fingers run through his beard and trace his jawline all the way around his ears and back down. 

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here. Summer Drabbles here.

#jonathan levy #jonathan levy x reader #jonathan levy x you #jonathan levy x y/n #jonathan levy x female!reader #jonathan levy fluff #jonathan levy angst #jonathan levy fanfiction #jonathan levy fanfic #jonathan levy fic #jonathan levy x f!reader #jonathan levy imagine #scenes from a marriage fanfiction #scenes from a marriage #scenes from a marriage imagine #scenes from a marriage fic #oscar isaac

[moonpascaltoo]

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all jonathan levy stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, let me know <3)

MASTERLIST • OSCAR ISAAC CHARACTERS • 05/12/24

☾ @spacecowboyhotch

       ☼ filthy

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

☾ @reallyrallyauthor

       ☼ premature

               ⭒ You try to find out Jonathan Levy's kinks.

       ☼ the house

               ⭒ Jonathan airbnb’s his old house to surprise you, and test himself

       ☼ california baby

               ⭒ Jonathan feels like a different man in California, the kind who picks up a woman at a bar. But casual sex isn’t really his strong suit, and it turns out you two have a lot in common.

       ☼ dift central

☾ @bastardmandennis

       ☼ pretty when you cry

               ⭒ You don't mind being Jonathan's TA--until he makes a mistake that almost costs you your job, and you decide to confront him about it.

☾ @h0unds-of-h3ll

       ☼ lover's exchange part 2

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

☾ @youvebeenlivingfictional

       ☼ breathe part 2

               ⭒ You’re both quite high, but you’re a little more controlled than he is. Well, it’s not your first time. You think he’s handling it pretty well, though. He’s had a couple of bouts of pure giggliness for no reason at all, and they’ve begun and tapered off all on their own.

But now he’s watching you. 

       ☼ dirty talk

       ☼ walkies

☾ @sweetly-yours-and-mine

       ☼ untitled

               ⭒ Sipping from the other's drink

☾ @eyelessfaces

       ☼ falling

               ⭒ you used to be a good distraction from jonathan's problems, but now you have become one of them, confronting him to his biggest fear: falling in love again.

☾ @strsburn

       ☼ every little thing

               ⭒ in which hearts are mended 

hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3

#jonathan levy #jonathan levy x reader #jonathan levy smut #jonathan levy imagine #jonathan levy fluff #jonathan levy angst #jonathan levy series #jonathan levy oneshot #scenes from a marriage #scenes from a marriage x reader #jonathan levy masterlist

[darkuselesssomebody]

𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝟚𝟘 - dark!jonathan levy x fem!reader

complete masterlist | kinktober 2023 masterlist

kink || recording/blackmail

taglist || @silversprings-mp3

fandom || scenes from a marriage

a/n || sorry. i don't have much else to say <3.

➵ warnings for specific content before the divider

➵ i never watched scenes from a marriage but jonathan levy is so fit so if he's ooc excuse me

➵ not proofread

➵ comment/message if you'd like to be added to the taglist

warnings || smut/dark (dddne)

➵ professor/student dynamic

➵ unprotected sex

➵ spanking

➵ blackmail, duh

➵ degradation (use of whore)

she knew it was stupid, and wrong.

she knew she had worked her ass off fr a full ride scholarship to this university, and she can't do anything to jeopardize that.

so of course, she had agreed to the lust-filled eyes of her professor - his wandering hands, his dirty mouth.

she'd let him grope her body, tear away at her leggings. she'd let him smack her ass, bite her neck. she'd let him cum in her mouth, and then inside her.

but she hadn't let him do that one thing.

she's in his office again today, and she was trying to cut the relationship off.

"we can't... do this anymore." she'd tried to argue, "you're just divorced, and you're my professor! you know how much trouble we could get into?"

he's not looking at her, hand over his mouth, a stern, contemplative look on his face. she bites her lip, as he spends more and more time not responding.

"can you say something?" she mumbles, and his chair finally turns to fully face her. he leans forward over his desk, hands clasped by his chin.

"no." his voice is cold, and she furrows a brow.

"what do you mean?"

"no. this-" he gestures between the two of them, "is not stopping." she blinks in confusion.

"you can't just-"

"i can, and i will." his voice isn't changing in inflection. it's not angry, it's commanding.

he needed the control. his whole life was spiraling out of control, and he wasn't letting his favorite student slip out of his fingers as well. a chill runs down her spine.

"i'm gonna... leave." she whispers, slowly getting up, and his eyes trail over her figure.

"sit back down." he orders, and she hesitates.

"n-no, i should-" he finally sighs solemnly.

"i didn't want to do this." he murmurs calmly, hand going to his phone to look through his gallery. he puts on a video, and doesn't even have to show her the contents - all she has to do is listen.

her moans are high-pitched and more needy than she remembers, and his own are gruff and controlled. he's calling her a whore - his whore - and she's preening at the name. her face flushes, cheeks warming as she listens.

she hadn't let him record the experience.

"what the fuck?" she whimpers, and he turns it off.

"insurance." he finally gets up, standing in front of her. she doesn't look at him, feeling her pulse quicken - not in excitement, or intrigue - but fear, and shock. he gently places his finger to her hot skin, and her breath hitches, "why would we stop when you need me so goddamn much?" he whispers, as though he was trying to be understanding. she shakes her head, feeling oncoming tears.

"no, i don't-"

"don't lie..." he says, so softly. he plays the role of the kind, patient professor perfectly, until he has her on her knees, "will you be my good girl now?" he murmurs, nosing at her earlobe, inhaling her scent deeply.

she shudders, cringing in disgust, but paradoxically feeling her core pulse in need. his grip tightens just slightly on her chin: he wants an answer.

"yes." she mumbles quietly, and he sighs in satisfaction. he presses a sweet kiss to her cheek, before grabbing at her scalp and pushing her to her knees, his other hand going down to undo his slacks. she gulps, staring up at his imposing figure, as he taps his now exposed cock on her lips.

"open up, sweetheart." he orders, and she slowly sticks her tongue out. she's upset she can't even fight back. what could she do? the sounds of her moans and his degradation in the video echo in her mind, as he fucks into her mouth, slowly, with his teeth gritted, "oh, yeah - fuck, yeah..." he moans, moving his hips a little faster. his hand has her hair bunched into a ponytail, moving her like a doll for him. because that's all she was. his whore.

he's getting closer, and he wants to cum inside her again. he pulls out of her mouth, helping her to her feet, before bending her over the desk and kicking open her legs. his hand runs over her ass, pulling down her tight jeans, and squeezing harshly at the flesh of her thighs. one hand pumps his cock, and the other explores her folds, flicking over her clit and making her jolt and whimper. she's trying not to moan - how cute, he thinks.

he delivers a small slap to her ass.

"moan, whore." he murmurs casually, as though he's asking about the weather. she bites her lip to moan, and he sighs, annoyance finally starting to show. he pulls her up such that her back was flush by his chest, holding her up by putting an arm around her tits. he wants to lave his tongue over her neck, leaving marks behind with his teeth. he wants her to struggle to explain them to her friends.

he adjusts to slip his cock inside her, and she finally moans loudly - high-pitched, shocked and pleasure-filled - and he smiles softly, letting her adjust.

he wasn't a monster, after all.

he pulls out till just his tip is still inside after letting her get used to him, before slamming back inside, wanting to hear her scream. she knows she can't - they're in his office for god's sake! - and she hand to bite down on her hand to muffle her noises. seeing it enrages him; he pulls her hand out of her mouth. he moves harder - thrusting harder inside her.

he needs her to moan, he needs to hear how good he makes her feel.

it works, and a flurry of moans and whimpers tumble out of her lips. she's gonna cum, and she's trying to stave it of, but it's not working.

"st-stop, i'm gonna-"

"cum?" he finishes her sentence for her, and bites her neck, grinning against her skin, "do it, whore." he murmurs, but he uses the word lovingly, this time. "cum for me."

she does it. for him, or not, it doesn't matter. she cums so hard, she's worried she'll pass out, and he groans into her hair as her walls clench around him, finishing not so long after, as well. he pulls out, admiring the view. she looks so pretty like this - this is what she should always look like.

he looks over at his phone, and she follows his gaze. it's recording - and she's shocked she'd not noticed it again. he pauses the recording, putting it in his pocket, and she looks at him in a strange mix of pleading, confusion, and horror. she swallows softly.

"why did you need another one?" she finally whispers, and he grins, eyes crinkling - a kind smile on his face.

"the last one was insurance. this one's entertainment."

#kinktober 2023 #jonathan levy #jonathan levy oneshot #jonathan levy imagine #jonathan levy x reader #jonathan levy smut #dark!jonathan levy #scenes from a marriage #recording #blackmail #oscar isaac

[marc-spectorr]

Congratulations Callie 🎉

So the suggestion prompt I think it's called for Jonathan, maybe after a long night of babysitting ava Jonathan and the reader get a little wine buzz and they start talking about there turn ons and by the end Jonathan has jumped the readers bones and is railing them on the sofa and maybe they get caught or get a call from Mira while it's happening and Jonathan just keeps going cus fuck that bitch. Sorry if it's long but, that's what popped into my head when I saw that prompt.

Also I hope you have a good day and don't over work yourself.

pairing: jonathan levy x reader

warnings: smuuut 

a/n: thanks for your sweet message, sails! hope you like this little drabble :)) 🧡

You should have known, really.

After downing two glasses of Chardonnay in the presence of Jonathan Levy, who was equally buzzed— perhaps, even more— something was bound to happen.

And it doesn’t surprise you. Not even the slightest. You’ve known Jonathan for years, and in the weeks leading up to this evening, the two of you constantly flirted with each other. It was only a matter of time until someone finally made a move.

Fortunately, that someone was Jonathan. He’d made the first move— kissed you first, to be specific. Leading you to where you are now, a half-dressed, moaning mess underneath him, chasing your high as he fucks you to paradise on his squeaky, leather couch.

“Shhh…” Jonathan mumbles into the shell of your ear, the palm of his hand covering your mouth as his thrusts slow down, but the brutal force is still enough to knock the breath out of you. “You’re being too loud. I can’t have you waking up Ava upstairs.”

Blinking the tears of pleasure away, you give him a nod of understanding. A string of stifled gasps escapes you immediately after he drops his hand from your face, rocking his hips against you in a rhythm that makes you lose your mind. You bite your bottom lip hard to suppress the sounds threatening to burst, but Jonathan doesn’t make it any easier.

Soon you’re on the verge of climax, your body shuddering and trembling from the sensations around you. Hiking your leg up to wrap around Jonathan’s waist, his cock slides in deeper, hitting a spot no man has ever reached before. He’s panting harshly against your neck, his beard scratching your skin and his mouth marking you with a set of mauve love bites.

Suddenly, a call comes in. Jonathan barely registers his cell ringing on the coffee table nearby, too lost in a haze of lust to notice until you’re patting his bicep, causing him to stop with a grunt. 

“Ignore it,” he mutters after a quick check on the notification. He puts his phone on silent this time, tossing it somewhere behind him on the sofa and resuming his obliterating pace. Then, it starts vibrating again by your feet, indicating yet another incoming call to which he doesn’t pay any mind.

“Fuck, just answer it. Could be important,” you huff, sucking in a sharp breath when Jonathan delivers a rough snap of his hips. 

“Are you serious? You want me to answer when you’re seconds away from coming on my cock?” he asks incredulously as he sweeps his salt and pepper curls away from his damp forehead. “It’s Mira who’s calling. I don’t know what for, and I really don’t give two shits about her, so can we please—”

Chuckling, you manage to pull enough strength to push Jonathan on his back and straddle him in one fluid motion. A groan rolls off his tongue when your warm hand circles his thick length, pumping it languidly from base to tip. Your other hand reaches for the phone that was still ringing, and with a devilish smirk, you hit “accept” on the screen.

“Sorry, Mira. Jonathan can’t talk right now. We’re a little preoccupied, aren’t we, honey?” You push the cell towards Jonathan’s face, and he is unable to prevent the moan ripping through his chest as you slip him inside of you. “Oh, look, she hung up. Guess she heard you loud and clear, baby.”

“You minx,” Jonathan chastises playfully, leaning up to capture your lips in a heated kiss before flopping back down and letting you ride him as you please.

#jonathan levy x reader #jonathan levy imagine #jonathan levy #callie's 2k celebration

[thepaperpanda]

A Quiet Moment || Jonathan Levy x fem!Reader

Summary: when Jonathan returns from work, you and he share some quiet and sweet moments

Warnings: none

Word count: 1659

Author: Fenrir & Cass

Loneliness became more like solitude as time passed.

Your life had been filled with loneliness for as long as you could remember. Because there were so many exams and subjects that were so boring that it was sometimes easier to fall asleep on your books than learn from them, being a history student didn't help me have a rich social life. Your entire life changed when you met Jonathan, the philosophy professor. Those lectures were so captivating that you were surprised at how quickly time passed.

Your friendship blossomed into something more; a genuine, serious relationship bloomed like a flower.

When you heard the lock on your door screech with the spare key, you were overjoyed. You dropped your pen, dashed downstairs, and jumped into the arms of a man as soon as he removed his coat.

"Hello there," Jonathan softly greeted you, wrapping his arm around your petite waist. It was actually nice to return to a place where he could relax and be greeted with some affection. Maybe the whole thing wasn't smart or acceptable, but this was where he felt good. This was exactly what he needed to do to feel completely satisfied. He kissed your temple after putting the bag down, keeping you close. "Are you still awake? I was certain I'd find you in bed."

"I've been studying for a history exam and have decided not to sleep until you get home. Are you hungry and thirsty? I made zucchini lasagne."

"I told you not to sit or wait for me for too long. You should rest before the exam," he reminded you as he led you into the kitchen. "Would you like to eat with me?"

"Wash your hands and get comfortable. I'll heat everything!" You joyfully exclaimed. "Tea? Or beer?"

"I'll just go get some water. You appear to be in a good mood today. Did something happen while I was away? Is there any good news?" Jonathan washed his hands while watching you rush around the kitchen. He grabbed the glass and filled it with water before sitting down at the table, pushing glasses up.

"I got an A in European history," you said with a smile. "I didn't get the highest possible score, but that's irrelevant." You quickly served the lasagne and grabbed your portion to join him at the table.

"I'm glad to hear it, and I must add 'I told you so,' because the day before you were freaking out about European history," Jonathan chuckled, remembering how scared you were despite the fact that there was no reason for it. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Your ex-wife called you. A few times, actually. She left a message for you."

Jonathan came to a halt with his food, staring at you.

He nodded, sighing deeply. "I hope she was pleasant. Did she explain why she called again?"

"No, these are 'your things,' and she 'will not be speaking with a third wheel about your private matters,' yeah?" You informed him simply.

He frowned again, adjusting his glasses. "Did she call you that, or did you interpret what she said?"

"I quoted her," you said, your tone a little sad. "I mean, I don't pay attention to her bragging, as you suggested, but it's annoying."

"I know it is," he nodded, reaching for your hand and gently pulling it closer to kiss your knuckles. "I promise I'll talk to her so she doesn't call here and remember, you're not the third wheel for me."

"Are you certain... I sometimes feel ridiculous for falling in love with you..."

"How come?"

"You're the professor, a promising man. And me? Just another dull student."

Jonathan sighed and pushed his chair back. "Please come here," he said quietly, grabbing your hand with the one he was still holding.

You took an offended position on his lap, instinctively putting a strand of your hair behind his ear. "You know what I'm like. I'm a little overwhelmed."

"I know, but I've also told you numerous times that there's no reason for you to," wrapping his arms around your waist, he reminded you. "Do you think I'd be here if you were just a boring student?"

With a shrug and tilt of your head, you replied, "I don't think so, Jonathan."

"So, why are you saying all of this?" He asked you again, and when he didn't get an answer, he kissed your shoulder. "You are more than a student. You are much more to me than that. I've told you this before, Y/N. I adore you."

You laughed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "You know I love you, baby, and I fell hard for you," you assured, resting your forehead against his and rubbing your nose against his.

His hand pressed against your nape, keeping you close. "You are a safe haven for me. There is no other place where I feel more at ease. I had a difficult day, but it improved when I returned home to you."

"Do you really mean it, love?" You inquired, nuzzling the back of his neck.

"Of course I'm serious. Why would I deceive you?"

"I never stated that you lied to me."

"Because you ask such a question, it means you don't believe me or doubt my words," he concluded with raised eyebrows.

"I just don't feel like I'm enough."

"You are more than sufficient. I wouldn't be here if you weren't sufficient," Jonathan kissed your cheek and nodded. "Now. Let's eat and then go to bed."

You pressed your lips to his cheek before returning to your seat to finish your meal.

Jonathan eventually began to eat as well. He was always a fan of your cooking. He helped you clean up after the meal and then accompanied you to your bedroom. He smiled as he saw the state of the bed.

Your laptop, books, and notebooks were all turned on, but the most intriguing thing was that his pillow was among them. "Someone missed me."

You began to remove your belongings from the bed in an attempt to conceal your blush. "You know how much I enjoy having you here with me, so I like to have your scent linger on me whenever I'm alone."

He picked up one of the books and handed it to you, laughing "Prepare the bed while I go take a shower. We can then cuddle. Does that sound right?"

You responded with a nod of eagerness.

He kissed you quickly and then went into the bathroom.

You made the bed, changed into fitted shorts and an oversized t-shirt, climbed aboard, and waited for your man to join you.

Jonathan finally joined you in bed after a half-hour wait. He sat on the bed and placed his glasses on the nightstand before falling asleep. "Come here."

Your head was instantly placed to his chest, where you placed a few tiny kisses. "Hi."

"Hello there," he hummed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. "Would you like me to spoon you? I know you enjoy it."

You simply nodded. "But not yet, because I'll fall asleep right away."

"Is that a bad thing? You require rest, especially after such intensive study."

"Let me store as much as I can with you."

"You cuddly, little Y/N," Jonathan chuckled as he squeezed you tight. "I was just thinking about something."

"About?"

"One weekend, we can just pack our belongings and go somewhere for three days. We can even bring Ava along, if Mira would let me. I'm sure you like her," he explained his concept. "The entire weekend, away from it all."

You rolled to your back and nodded with heart eyes. "When?! I want to! Ava is a wonderful girl!"

"I'm not sure yet. We'll need to plan it, as well as find a nice hotel and some interesting places to visit, make a hotel reservation," Jonathan shook his head.

You simply nodded. "I'll look into it tomorrow."

Jonathan laughed, nodding his head. "So eager. I am not going to stop you."

"You're too cute."

"Me? You're the cute one here."

"Thanks," you replied. "Do you think your wife will let Ava with us? She doesn't like me."

"It shouldn't be a problem, in my opinion. When I take her on my weekend trip, she will have nothing to say," Jonathan kissed your head while shrugging. "But don't be concerned, pretty little head. Mira and I will deal with it."

"That woman is beyond my comprehension. She was the first to pursue a younger man."

"Believe it or not, I don't understand her either, but I'm used to it."

"Jonathan?"

He hummed in response.

"What do you think, maybe one day we could consider... If we'll be together long enough... Having a... I feel silly."

"Say it."

"A baby. I mean a baby."

Jonathan rolled onto his side, drawing you in closer.

"Y/N. You don't have to ask me about this," he said quietly, moving a strand of hair behind your ear. "I told you openly that I still wanted a baby and agreed to wait until you were ready."

You simply nodded. "Seeing your little girl makes me want to have a baby, but I'm not sure I'd be a good mother, having a child is a huge responsibility. And the last thing I want to do is disappoint you."

"I saw you with Ava, and from what I saw, I know you'll be a great mom," he said, cuddling you. "You won't be alone in this."

A deep sigh escaped your lips as you nestled in his arms.

"I adore you and am confident that you will excel," Jonathan held you close and whispered.

You closed your eyes and listened to his heartbeat, which made you feel more at ease than before.

"Now. Just relax and don't think about it. You require it." Then he turned to his nightstand and switched off the lamp.

#Jonathan Levy x reader #Jonathan Levy #scenes from a marriage #Jonathan (scenes from a marriage) x reader #Jonathan Levy x you #scenes from a marriage fic #Jonathan Levy drabble #Jonathan Levy imagine #oscar isaac imagine #oscar isaac drabble #Oscar Isaac fanfiction #writers on tumblr

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐊 𝐃 : ᴀᴜ-ᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ — ʙᴏᴏ !

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — wanting to be with someone so bad you bring them back from the dead should be a superpower .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — dark trojan [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 1.7k

jonathan levy wasn't the most social person. he has friends yes but a very small and tight knit one. he's made friends throughout his life, a few long lasting relationships and some cut short, some drifted apart, others were drawn closer. jonathan levy wasn't the most social person but he knew how to hold them close to his heart.

when jonathan was 16, he made a friend in highschool. she was in some of his classes, a quiet soul. he's never seen her with a circle of her own, oftentimes seen alone and within herself only. he's never dared ask anyways but he still made friends with her. after much difficulty attempting to get more than a word as an answer.

she was silent, almost mute if not for her snarky one liners. but she was kind. he didn't have to see it to know, he just did. he can feel it behind the seemingly impenetrable wall of sass.

nobody else in class would approach her or talk to her unless they were forced to. the odd number of kids in his class made it so she was usually just by herself but it's never as if she minded it. if anything, she looked happier that way not that he'd seen her actually happy. always scowling, lips curled downwards to a frown.

but they were friends. at least jonathan liked to think they were. and they stayed that way for some time, friends, save for the budding seed of love in his heart. he liked her. he likes her a lot he thinks.

she'll never say it back. she never really says much of anything back unless it's a groan or a huff, a yes, no or maybe but never a proper sentence. all throughout highschool they stayed that way, unchanging. for her part mostly. jonathan liked her too much, his childish crush too intense for his teenage heart.

and graduation happened, a new chapter waiting for them already and he's not ready yet. he hasn't told her yet, he hasn't felt her yet. unable to move past the final sentence unless he's said everything that needed to be said. but ultimately, he's a coward. too scared of rejection, of hearing that cold tone of her voice as she tells him no.

so he does something else.

slipping an envelope that contained a few pages of his love to her bag. a proclamation, a dedication. his heart was hers even if she didn't want it. but he never got an answer back. not after the ceremony, not during summer vacation, not while he was in college, not even while he got married years later.

she stayed a ghost in the back of his mind. a haunting. a silhouette that passes through his neurons and shifting his train of thought to her station. daydreaming, wondering. how was she now?

maybe she got married too. maybe she's got her whole life ahead her now. she was a promising student after all despite her silence. does she think of him too like he thinks of her? he hopes so. he really does.

does it count as cheating that he thought about her even when he has a wife? a child of his own? he never told mira but he made her a godmother to ava. her daughter calls her her invisible auntie. or a ghost. she's never seen her, but she's heard stories. on nights her father would tell her about his past. she was always a part of it somehow, this mysterious woman. ava wants to meet her, her daddy does too.

jonathan realizes quite late in life that he's never had a picture of her. even if he scours the internet, scrolling hours and hours through old classmates' facebook profile or old albums of his time as a teen. not an image, not a trace. a ghost. like she wasn't even real.

maybe she wasn't. the way he can't find her facebook profile, nor instagram. he'd ask around but he thinks that might send a wrong message. he's got a lot on his plate already with his wife's affair and everything. plus he has a daughter.

so why was he trying so hard? why did he still preserve her in his memories? why can't he let her go?

was it because she listened to him despite never sharing things of her own? or that she'd correct his answers by showing her paper to him during an exam? or because even after all these years he longs for her silence? a peace of mind he only ever knew when he sat next to her. he still wants her. even after all this time. maybe she's all he ever wanted, his little ava too of course.

maybe he thinks about her too much that he's seeing her while he was awake too. that's why he's seeing her standing in front of him in the darkness of his living room. hasn't aged a day, still so beautiful, still so quiet.

maybe he's just tired. yeah, maybe. but then why does he approach her figure? hell, why doesn't he question how she even got in? but all that faded from his mind as he stands in front of her. a few inches taller, enough for him to have to look down to see her.

angelic, he'd describe her. unreal.

"where have you been?" was all he could ask her, voice hushed to a whisper as his wife and daughter slept in the floor above them.

a period of silence falls between them, jonathan refuses to blink or she'll be gone. she will be. he's thinking her up, a figure of his imagination for sure. and in a way, he was right.

there's so much he wants to tell her, enough that his mind fumbles for the right words to say but they never arrive. his voice stuck in his throat. instead she hears her, that same cold voice, just one word, one line. never two or three or too much to call it a sentence. but to him, her voice was sweet like a treat he can't get enough of. the word was bitter but to him it sounded much like salvation.

'where have you been?' the question hangs in the air longer than it should.

"dead."

he knows it's in a literal sense, not one for humor. it's dark out, well past midnight. unable to sleep with his thoughts plagued by the woman in front of him, thinking about her so much she's here now. she was a ghost, she haunts him, follows him from the corner of his periphery. a blur in the background but he knew it was her.

for the first time though he hears her talk longer than a word. her voice cuts in the silence like a knife to his wounded heart but he doesn't mind. he doesn't seem to mind a lot of things when it comes to her.

"you haunt me." she tells him. angry, spiteful. "i can't leave because of you. you're cruel, jonathan." oh how his name sounded so good when she says it. addictive, he wants to hear it again. "let me go."jonathan levy wasn't the most social person. he has friends yes but a very small and tight knit one. he's made friends throughout his life, a few long lasting relationships and some cut short, some drifted apart, others were drawn closer.

he made his heart her home. a place she didn't want to be, she never asked to be. she's chained, trapped in the memory of his past. he'd never close this chapter. he's bookmarked it to read back through.

she took the space in his heart for anyone else, not even mira. he packed her bags up and threw her out just so she could have it all to herself, his heart. it's hers, he's hers.

she didn't want it, not back then and not even now. her heart burdened for long enough she quit. her heart was vacant for long enough, for lease, for sale, for bulldozing. her heart can't be a home even if she wanted it to be. she was young but she wasn't stupid. to let him in was to stay, she didn't want to stay. she left, permanently. but she's back because he's tied her down, chained her to his soul.

"let me go." she repeats. he should, he couldn't, he wouldn't. "never." he answers. confident, unyielding.

"i will haunt you." hateful almost as she speaks, eyes squinted to a glare. but jonathan was a hungry man, starving for a love can never have in life or in death so he'll take whatever crumbs he could get his hands on even if it was only a memory of her, even if it meant her soul stayed in this world. he'd take anything as long as he can see her, remember her. he wanted her, jonathan needed her. desperate and clawing at him, tearing down his logic and reason.

crazy. insane. out of his mind. she spewed harsh insults he takes as sweet compliments. anything that falls from her lips are anything but sweet, in his mind at least. she can hurt him all she wants, however her ghost wanted, but he'd still say thank you. like hansel and gretel, he'll eat her up, craving her hate wrapped as a sugary treat and swallow it whole and still want more. unhealthy and yet too good to not have.

"then haunt me. stay with me. even if you're not real, a ghost or an image my mind conjured. be with me however you are, i'll take what i can get my hands on so stay."

#👤 — user : kira #💾 — local disk d : anastasia #scenes from a marriage #jonathan levy #jonathan levy x reader #jonathan levy fanfiction #jonathan levy imagine #jonathan levy angst

[ninebluehearts]

hi! hope you're doing well. if its okay I'd like I'd like to request something where the reader is a student in jonathan levys class and he convinces them to not drop out please, can be platonic or romantic. thank you :))

Hello! I'm doing well, thank you for asking! How are you doing? 💕

Warnings: Hurt/comfort

There was something about this semester that was just rubbing you the wrong way. The first semester was easy; you loved all of your classes, you were getting decent sleep, everything seemed like a movie. But after the holidays and everything being so cold and dark, you just couldn't seem to fall back into your old routine.

Your therapist mentioned something about seasonal depression, but you barely even remember that session; you just couldn't seem to focus as well as you used to. Therefore making your grades suffer.. Even the Dean pulled you into her office and asked if everything was alright, mentioning how you were once a 'A+ average' and now it was rare for you to even get a 'B.'

You were sitting in the back of your philosophy class and though your eyes were fixed on the board, you couldn't seem to pay attention to any of the writing on it. This was especially unusual for you since this was your favorite class. Jonathan Levy's class.

Though it was forbidden, you couldn't help but at least day dream about the man. Could anyone really blame you? The way he adjusted his glasses whenever he was stressed, how he always licked his fingers before plucking your paper out of the stack of assignments and handing it to you, or especially how he always wore the most flattering outfits..

He was truly a sight for sore eyes.

And that was another reason you wanted to drop out. He already has an ex-wife and a kid and he was twice your age. There's no way you could keep coming to his class and pretending there wasn't any tension between the two of you. And that was what made things ten times harder; You knew he liked you back.

"Alright guys, that wraps up our unit on the history of modern philosophy. Make sure you review the unit's key points and study them well, because we have the unit test tomorrow." Jonathan put his hands up and sighed, listening to the chorus of groans filling his classroom.

You used to be annoyed when people would do that, but now you couldn't help but drop your hand into your hands and join them.

Jonathan handed out worksheets to all of the passing students. "You guys have got this. You've been working hard these past few weeks." But when he got to you, his smile dwindled. "Miss l/n, could you actually stay behind for a moment? I'd like to have a word with you."

You simply nodded, walking over to sit on top of one of the tables in the front of the classroom.

Once the last student walked out, Jonathan shut the door behind them, then made his way over to you. "So.." He began, leaning against the table, standing right next to you. "How are you doing?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "You?"

"I'm alright, thank you for asking. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about your last paper.." Jonathan adjusted his glasses before pulling a printed copy of your latest essay out from behind your assigned homework. "It's not bad. I'll start with that. You have the right idea, I just think that you could do a better job of conveying your ideas through your writing, ya know?"

"Mhm.." You hummed, not trusting your voice at the movement. It was getting hard trying to swallow around the lump of emotions in your throat. You really did try on that paper, but you will admit, it was rushed.

"I can even help you work on this and homework, if you'd like? I just don't want to test you on something you don't fully understand." Jonathan had set the papers down next to you, now standing up straight with his arms crossed, giving you his full attention.

Now's the time. You thought to yourself. But god, you really didn't want to disappoint him.

You cleared your throat, pushing yourself off of the table to stand face to face with him. "While that is very appreciated, Mr. Levy, it will not be necessary.. Considering that I will not be moving onto the next unit. Thank you for your time." You tried to grab the papers from the table, but Jonathan put his hand down on them, pausing your movements.

"What do you mean? Of course you're moving onto the next unit. You just need-"

"I don't think you understand, Mr. Levy-"

"Please, Jonathan." He said, then gestured for you to continue.

You breathed out a sigh, your shoulders sagging. "Right, Jonathan.. I don't think this whole college thing is for me. I'm gonna go home and focus on myself for while.. Maybe I'll come back in a year or two."

Jonathan stared at you for a long time, his eyes fixed on yours even if you wouldn't even look at his. "No."

"No?"

"No." Jonathan said simply, shrugging his shoulders before removing his glasses to clean the frames on his wool sweater. "I can't just let you quit. You'd never forgive yourself and quite frankly, I wouldn't either."

The tears you'd been holding back finally fell, making you turn your entire body away from him. "I've already made up my mind. I can't do this anymore." You bit down on your lower lip, trying to quiet your sobs.

Jonathan grabbed a tissue off of his desk then hooked his fingers under your chin, guiding your face up to meet his. "Hey." He mumbled, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his sweater. "It's gonna be okay. I don't want you to just give up. Let me help you." He held the tissue up to you, a small smile growing across his lips.

You knew what the tissue symbolized.

If you took it, you'd agree to stay. But if not.. Well, you honestly couldn't imagine a world without him in it. So, you took the tissue from him and blew your nose, shaking your head as you tossed the tissue into the trashcan. "I don't know if I can do it.." You mumbled, your eyes fixed on your shoes.

"Hey, come here." Jonathan wrapped his arms around your upper back, laying his head on top of yours. "I've got you."

You wrapped your arms around his waist, your face buried in his chest as you finally allowed your sobs to escape. "Thank you." You whispered, only hugging him tighter.

Jonathan nodded, his thumb gently rubbing your shoulder. The next few months were gonna be rough, but Jonathan would be damned if he was gonna let you get through them alone.

#💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙thoughts #jonathan levy #jonathan levy x y/n #jonathan levy x reader #jonathan levy x you #jonathan levy fic #scenes from a marriage fic #scenes from a marriage #scenes from a marriage headcanon #jonathan levy headcanon #oscar issac #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac headcanons #oscar issac hernandez estrada #jonathan levy imagine #thanks for the ask! #college fic

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Contemptress - Jonathan Levy

I don't know why or how, but this imagine came out of me. I birthed it into existence with my fucked up brain. I started it when I was in a bad mood and decided to finish it. Sorry, I guess?

This is DARK. Like, really dark and sad. Triggering content. Please, please, mind the warnings

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), switches between noncon/dubcon, infidelity, rebounds, extremely toxic relationships, oral (m and f!receiving), rough rough sex, little to no foreplay, sadism, dacryphilia, overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, Dark!Jonathan, seriously he's a major dick in this fic, no happy ending :(

3.2 Words🤙🏻

~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t know Jonathan too well, he was more like a friend of a friend for the most part. You occasionally went out for coffee or dinner with your friend and her husband and he and Mira would tag along. From the outside, it seemed like they were the perfect couple. They both seemed like they never had any problems or the typical couple's quarrels, so when your friend told you that they were getting a divorce, you were shocked.

You were curious but you didn’t think to pry, it wasn’t your business after all. You felt bad for their kid, being a child of divorce yourself, you knew she would have a difficult time dealing with it, especially at such a young age. But that was the extent of it, you didn’t think of it any more.

You soon discovered that you and Jonathan went to the same coffee shop most of the time, you were pleasantly surprised when you saw him there one morning. You noticed he frequented the place more often after the separation, sometimes in a hurry or on rare occasions would actually sit and eat a bagel with his beverage. 

You were flattered that he remembered you well enough to start up a conversation with you, asking how you were and what you had been up to since the last time he saw you. He seemed put together well enough on the surface, but you knew that you couldn’t possibly know what was going on behind the scenes. You could almost see it, the emotions he was hiding behind his eyes. They were tired, the slightest tinge of red blemishing the corners of his sclera. You could see the faintest bite marks on his hands, and your heart ached at the thought that he did it to himself.

You didn’t know how you got the courage to initiate it, but you invited him for breakfast whenever he was available. You were relieved he said yes, almost enthusiastically. You would allow him to rant with no judgment, you even found yourself taking his side. You couldn’t believe Mira would do something like that, leaving her child just to be with her lover. It was unforgivable in your eyes, but you kept those opinions to yourself because it was clear Jonathan still loved her. But he was in so much pain.

After that morning, things started to escalate.

You started seeing each other more often, getting dinner together as well as breakfast. When Mira came back and started keeping Ava at her place sometimes, you would even share drinks at his home. Then he started coming over to yours.

You were both drunk, feeling sorry for yourselves, and it just happened. The sex was messy, sloppy, the taste of booze on each other’s tongues. It didn’t last that long, and you both felt guilty the morning after, along with major hangover headaches. He made his escape quickly, saying that he had to pick Ava up from school, even though it was a Saturday. But it was okay, you needed time to yourself to think anyway.

You didn’t see each other for a couple weeks after that. You didn’t even go to your favorite coffee shop in fear of having to see him. But the hiatus abruptly came to an end when a loud knock on your door woke you up at two in the morning, a disheveled and rain drenched Jonathan standing outside your door pitifully. It didn’t take but two seconds to give into his puppy dog eyes, forcefully pulling him into your house and frantically tearing off his wet clothes while he did the same to you.

It became a habit. Whenever something happened with Mira that made him angry or upset, his first instinct was to come to you. You never turned him down. You never disagreed with anything he said or did. You never did anything that would make him upset, you didn’t want to. He needed you, and you would give him exactly what he wanted.

But it was never soft, loving sex. That's not what you were for. No, it was rough. Passionate. Intense. Sex with Jonathan always left you with more than a few bruises, but you didn't mind. In fact, you liked it. You liked waking up the next morning sore and in pain, you liked seeing the marks he made on your delicate skin. It made you feel special, in a way. You felt special being the one he chose to take all his anger and frustration out on, no matter how rough he could get. No matter how much pain he put you through. You took it. All of it. 

You were addicted to him. Every single thing about him. You knew you shouldn't have fallen in love, in fact you told yourself that you could never allow yourself to. But there were moments where Jonathan was so into it that he’d whisper soft I love you’s in your ear, but he never said your name, you could always hear the faintest moans that was the beginning of Mira’s name but he always managed to stop himself before saying it fully. But that didn’t matter to you. There were also moments, though fleeting, where he’d wrap you in his arms and fall asleep next to you. It warmed your heart despite yourself.

But he’d always leave. Even before you woke up, Jonathan would be gone. You weren’t surprised either way, but you did feel disappointed when it happened. You made the grave mistake of accidentally whispering an I love you after he had given you a particularly amazing orgasm, it just slipped out. He was not happy.

You still felt a lump in your throat every time your thoughts drifted back to that night. He immediately slapped your cheek, not hard but just enough to leave a bright red mark on your face, sternly telling you to never say that shit again. And as you usually did, you obeyed him and you never said it again.

You had confided in a couple of your closest friends, wanting, no, needing their opinions. Even though you knew what they were going to say, you still felt angered by how adamant they felt you needed to call off this fucked up friends with benefits because it started to not even feel that way anymore. But you just couldn’t, no matter how much you knew you needed to listen to them, you always came crawling back for more.

You had never known what addiction felt like until you started sleeping with Jonathan. All those stories you had heard and read about drugs or alcohol being so important that you’d disregard all others, even your own family and friends, just to get that fix. You couldn’t rightfully say that’s exactly how it felt, but you imagined it felt somewhat similar. You’d cry yourself to sleep every time he left your apartment after fucking, you felt anxiety every time you were apart, you started to feel like you couldn’t live without him. 

You needed to end this. Right fucking now. But of course, all those thoughts went out the window as soon as Jonathan came knocking at your door with that same intensity in his eyes that meant he needed to abuse your cunt until you were weeping.

The two of you didn’t even have to exchange words anymore. You’d make the subtlest expression that you couldn’t possibly turn him away, and he’d be on you in an instant, and tonight was no different.

“Such a good little slut. Always ready to take me.” Jonathan growled in your ear, as he bit your neck hard enough to break the skin, causing you to hiss in pain. “Right?” When you didn’t answer right away, he grabbed you harshly by the throat and forced you to look into his eyes. “Right?” He asked more sternly.

“Y-Yeah…” You stuttered, yelping when he grabbed your pussy through your pajamas.

“By the time these clothes come off, you better be fuckin’ wet and dripping for me cause I ain’t planning on being easy with you tonight, sweetheart.” Even the harshness of his voice and the threatening tone, it still made you throb for him, the added sweetheart sending your pleasure signals into overdrive. “On your fuckin’ knees.” He ordered, not allowing you a response by shoving you to the floor anyway.

You yelped when your knees hit the hardwood too roughly, but hearing Jonathan’s belt buckle come undone made your mouth water and the pain easily retreated to the back of your mind. “Open wide, babygirl.” You instantly gagged as he shoved his half hardened cock into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and keeping it there until tears ran down your cheeks. “That’s right, take my fuckin’ dick.” He groaned loudly, his thrusting slowing and becoming shallow as his cock hardened fully, which finally allowed you to catch your breath. But that didn’t last long.

Jonathan grabbed you by the back of your neck, tangling his fingers in the roots of your hair and brought you up to kiss you roughly. You felt his growls reverberating in your mouth as he kissed you, if you could even call it that. He was trying to swallow you whole. “Bedroom. Now. Take off your clothes on the way.”

Your nipples instantly hardened in the cool air conditioned room, taking a seat on the end of your bed as Jonathan came not far behind you, his shirt and jeans already discarded, his cock bouncing out of its confines. “Lay down. Spread your legs.”

You shivered as Jonathan ran his hands up and down your calves, the cold metal of his wedding ring raising goosebumps all over your body and causing a pit to form in your stomach. Of all the times you fucked each other, why now of all times were you feeling like you couldn’t handle the thought of him still devoted to Mira?

You cried out as Jonathan roughly slapped your cunt, running his fingers along your folds briefly before scowling down at you. “I thought I told you, you better be wet by the time your clothes come off? What part of that wasn’t clear, huh?” He scolded, dryly thrusting his fingers into your tight entrance without caring about your pain. “Aw, does that not feel good?” He teased maliciously. “Well maybe it would feel better if you had done like I asked. Now what I’m about to do won’t feel good at all. But maybe that’s what you want, huh? You want me to hurt you? That can be arranged.”

Your eyes widened as Jonathan hovered about you, lining up his dick with your cunt, spitting down on his dick to use as his only lube. “No wait, ah-!” You cried as he inserted himself into you with no prep, no foreplay, no time for adjustment.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Even with you rejecting me, your pussy feels so goddamn good.” He growled, thrusting into you hard and deep, no matter how much you protested and begged for him to let you adjust. Compassion just wasn’t in the cards for you tonight.

You reached down to rub your clit, just to at least try and force your body to create its own lubricate, but Jonathan slapped your hand and pinned them both above your head. “Jonathan, please, it hurts…” You hiccuped, trying to stifle your cries but failing miserably.

Jonathan first responded by slapping your face, a vice grip on your throat and cutting off your oxygen before responding vocally. “You filthy bitch, eight inches of dick ain’t enough for you, huh? Any woman would be thrilled to be fucked by me, but no, you have to complain. Fine, whore, I’ll give you what you want.”

Jonathan traveled down your body, diving face first into your pussy, focusing in on your clit ruthlessly. You whined loudly, instinctively trying to close your legs around his head but your efforts came up short. “Happy now, bitch?” He mumbled against your cunt, his tongue so expertly giving that it caused so much overstimulation. He scoffed incredulously as you begged him to slow down, sitting on his knees as he looked down on your tear covered face with disdain. He looked exhausted with you, his eyebrows furrowed and angry huffs escaping his lips.

You gasped as he suddenly flipped you over on your stomach, raising your hips up and pushing your head down against your pillow. You moaned painfully as he entered you from behind, shivering as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “No more accommodation. Now, I just fuck you and you take it. Understand? Not a single complaint outta you.”

The cries of anguish quickly turned into moans of pleasure thanks to the new angle. You wanted to hate him, so badly, but his cock was finally hitting all the right places and your clit calmed down from his tongue beating. “Oh, yeah!” You cried out, the tip of his cock hitting against your sweet spot over and over again, the grunting and growling from Jonathan making your clit throb for attention.

“Slut’s finally enjoying herself, huh? Good girl.” He growled slowly, his hands surely leaving bruises from the vice grip he had on your hips. “Such a pretty girl, such a pretty pussy, clenching around my cock so well. Aw, yes, fuck!” He moaned, taking advantage of the angle to slap your ass a couple times.

“Jonathan, can I touch my clit, please?” You whined, already feeling so close but so scared he’d stop.

“Good girl, asking for permission. Yes, sweetheart, rub your clit for me.”

You gasped loudly as your fingers came into contact with your throbbing nub, rubbing it in tight circles, trying to patch the pace of Jonathan’s thrusts. “S-So…close…” You stuttered, crying and moaning absolute gibberish that even you couldn’t understand.

“Come, my little slut. Let me feel how much you love this cock.” He picked up his pace, thrusting into you faster than what should be humanly possible, only amplifying the sensations and fack tracking your orgasm. Hitting you like a train, you let out a loud broken groan that felt like it damaged your vocal cords, but the intensity of the orgasm was so great you didn’t even care. All you focused on was how incredible you felt. “Yes, baby, yes. Feels so good.”

But even after you had what must’ve been one of the best orgasms of your life, Jonathan never slowed his pace. He kept pistoning into you like his life depended on it, and it was so overwhelming. You didn’t know if you could handle it. “Oh, fuck!” You yelped, trying so hard not to beg him to stop.

“Yeah, take it.” He growled, pulling you up by the roots of your hair to bite down on your shoulder hard. “Take it like the good little slut you are.”

You couldn’t stop yourself. “Jonathan, slow down, please.” You whimpered, his cock hitting your cervix over and over, the sensation making you feel like it was going to kill you. “I can’t…” You cried, tears flowing freely from your eyes.

Jonathan only chuckled darkly, not letting up in the slightest. “Not yet, pretty girl. I still haven’t come.”

It felt like an eternity before you felt Jonathan’s cock twitch inside you, his brutal thrusts stilling and feeling his warm cum shoot in you. Before, you loved the feeling, but now it just felt like a curse.

You winced as Jonathan pulled out of you, collapsing on your bed beside you with a satisfied sigh. You carefully turned yourself over, your legs shaking at just the slightest movements. You awaited his check ins, the ones he always did after a rough session. It wasn’t too compassionate or empathic, just a simple “are you okay?” would be enough for him. But that never came, maybe he forgot or maybe he was too fucked out to remember.

You hated it, but you teared up again and he wasn’t even gone yet. You didn’t even know how to bring it up, so you just went ahead and said it. “I can’t do this anymore.” You managed to whisper.

“What?” Jonathan asked in confusion, turning on his side to look at you. “What are you talking about?”

You sat up as best you could, leaning up against your headboard with him following, wiping away the stray tears that had fallen. “This, Jonathan. I can’t do this. Whatever this is between us. I just…I can’t.”

Jonathan scoffed. “Whatever this is? Y/n, we both agreed that this wasn’t anything. Just sex. It’s not my fault you’ve caught feelings. You shouldn’t punish me for it.”

“This is exactly why I can’t do it anymore, because of that exact agreement. In the beginning, it was so…nice. It was fun. But Jonathan you’ve…you’ve changed. I only know what you share with me, but I can tell your divorce with Mira is changing you.”

“Separation.” He corrected, making you roll your eyes.

“You say her name while we fuck, Jonathan. You’re still hurting and you’re taking it out on me now, and I don’t think that’s fair either. This used to be an outlet, but now it’s just torture for me.”

“Well, maybe you should’ve thought about this possibility before you let me fuck you, don’t you think?” He seethed, clenching his fists and keeping still against the headboard. You both stayed in a tense silence before he sighed. “I thought…I thought this would help me get over Mira, come to terms with it better. But clearly, this hasn’t worked.”

“You think?” You chuckled weakly, not even bothering to wipe away your tears anymore. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“I’m sorry, Jonathan, but,” You exhaled shakily, “I think it’s for both our sakes that this ends. It’s not healthy. Never has been. I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want you to hate me.” You looked over at him and the scene shocked you. He had tears running down his cheeks too, and it somehow made you feel even worse.

“All this time…I’ve been turning into the person I didn’t want to become most of all. I’m turning into her.” He sniffled, angrily rubbing his tears away. “God, what is wrong with me?” You didn’t have an answer to that, but you didn’t want him to feel alone, despite all he’s done to you. You grabbed ahold of his hand gently, rubbing your thumb over his bruised knuckles. “I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t mean much right now, but I am.”

“I know…” You whispered, pulling Jonathan into a hug, gently tugging on his hair as he sobbed in your arms. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay…”

“You’re right. You didn’t deserve this. We can’t let this go on any longer.”

You knew you shouldn't have forgiven him so easily, and you didn’t at first. But he seemed genuine in his apology, and he left you alone after that night. It was a difficult process. You didn’t know if you’d survive a week, but you persevered. Every day made you aware of new struggles. You had to avoid every place you had ever been with him. Even your own apartment felt wrong to live in. Everything was tainted. Every part of yourself you could associate it with your time with Jonathan. 

Your body still craved him.

You still loved him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Please please please, if you are or ever find yourself in this type of situation, don't be afraid to reach out for help. There are so many people that love you and want what's best for you. It may feel like you can never escape, but that's not true. You are strong, you are capable, you are more than your abuser, you can overcome, you can heal. You deserved to be loved.

#scenes from a marriage #jonathan levy #jonathan levy smut #jonathan levy fanfiction #jonathan levy x reader #jonathan levy x fem!reader #jonathan levy imagine #oscar isaac

[oscarisaacsspit]

i need jonathan levy smut like i need air to breathe (but in like a normal way)

#my truth #i just feel like he smells…so good #i think about it daily #(in a normal way) #oscar isaac #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac smut #jonathan levy #jonathan levy x you #jonathan levy x reader #jonathan levy fluff #jonathan levy smut #jonathan levy headcanon #jonathan levy imagine #jonathan levy hrs #i jus get a lil stoopid whenever i think ab him #yeah #personal #miss mitten posts

[xspiderxx]

nsfw. miguel o'hara

Have you seen Scenes from marriage? Because I can't stop thinking about Miguel having the same dynamic with his ex girlfriend/wife. Like you ending things, having an ugly break up, screaming at each other, crying...

But at the end of the day, somehow, you always go back to each other.

“you look so gorgeous right now” Miguel moans into your ear, rocking his hips against yours “ah, sí” groans, biting your earlobe.

“fuck...” you whimper, pulling him deeper into you with your legs around him “I lov-” you bite your lips, not finishing the sentence, but you can feel Miguel's lips curving into a smirk against your neck.

You were supposed to just pickup some stuff you left at his apartment after your break up, so you're not sure how you ended up fucking desperately on the living room carpet.

Your walls squeeze around him as you reach your high. He grips your hips, keeping you still, and with a last thrust, a loud and deep moan escapes from his lips, filling you up with his hot semen.

“we're not doing this again” you sigh with him still inside you.

He nods, but both of you know that it's a lie.

#sorry but every time I see miguel I see oscar isaac #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #spiderman #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman 2099 #spider man 2099 #oscar isaac #jonathan levy #scenes from a marriage #miguel o'hara headcanons #spiderman 2099 headcanons #headcanons

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Exhale

Pairing: Jonathan Levy x Reader

Rating: M

Notes: Hey look it's the sequel to Breathe that no one asked for

Warnings: Mutual pining; mentions of divorce; weed smoking; angst; fluff; Reader teaches with Jonathan; not beta-read Summary: You’re in a cuddly, sleepy mood. In the past, with other people, that’s made you pretty fricking stupid—moves and passes made, friends and exes slept with, relationships made, boosted, bolstered, broken.

Your friendship with Jonathan has become far too dear to allow yourself to get stupid about him now. 

You hardly look away from the dishes as you hear him pad back into the kitchen. Jonathan tips his head forward, pressing against the nape of your neck as he groans softly. The ease that he leans into you makes your stomach flutter—and the tired groan he looses makes you grin.

“That was bad,” He mumbles. 

“It wasn’t that bad.” 

“It wasn’t that bad?” He repeats, laughing. He straightens to step around you, leaning back against the counter. 

“No! I mean…You know. It could’ve been worse.” 

Jonathan huffs a soft laugh, raising his hands and scrubbing at his eyes, knocking his glasses askew for a moment before he rights them again. 

“It was excruciating.” He sighs, peering down at your hands before he asks, “Can we smoke? Please?” 

“You’re always so polite, Levy,” You tease, raising your hand and spritzing him with water. He chuckles, flinching out of the way, only grumbling a little when a droplet lands on one of his lenses. 

--  

You’re bundled in your coats and scarves and hats, sitting on the back porch of the house as you pass the joint back and forth. You’ve gotten into the habit of sitting outside, after Ava mentioned a funny smell after one of your visits with Jonathan. 

You lean back against one of the posts of the porch stairway, peering up. The sky is overcast, but the air doesn’t feel heavy, or smell like snow. It was supposed to snow, but there hasn’t been a hint of it. 

“...You’re too polite,” You comment lightly. Jonathan frowns down at you, brow furrowing, his hand half extended to hand the joint back. He’s a couple of steps above you, leaning against the opposite end of the stairs.

“Well, you are,” You shrug. “If you hadn’t been, that whole dinner would never have happened.”

Jonathan huffs, drawing the joint back to himself and raising it to his lips. You laugh a little, tipping your head up to look up at the sky again.

“You’re just pissed ‘cause you know I’m right,” You add.

Despite what you’d said in the kitchen, the evening had been pretty bad. You’d come by to smoke with Jonathan, and before you could get into it, Mira had stopped by to pick something up. You’d passed your presence off as a conference, discussing some of your thesis students. Your pizza had arrived a few minutes after Mira did, and Jonathan had offered (emphatically) for Mira to stay and have a slice. The conversation had been awkward and stilted, with Mira and Jonathan beginning to rise to bickering every few minutes, remembering that you were there, and then backing off of it immediately—Jonathan with a clearing of his throat and an adjustment of his glasses, and Mira shooting an awkward, darting glance toward you, a tight smile on her lips.

“We’re still trying to be civil."

”I know.” 

“So I was just trying to be friendly—” 

“Friendly and civil are two different things.” 

“They’re synonyms.” 

“It’s a slight but important semantic difference.” 

You hold your hand out, fingers wiggling. Jonathan grudgingly passes the joint back over before he wraps his arms around himself, avoiding your gaze. You raise the joint to your lips, drawing the smoke in. You draw the joint away again, eyeing the smoking tip. 

“Alright,” You tack on, voice tight as you hold in the drag, “I’ll shut up.” 

“She’s important to me.” 

“I know that.” 

“She’s the mother of my child—” 

“Jonathan—” 

“We were together for twelve fucking years—” 

“Hey,” You sit up, shifting onto the step beside Jonathan’s outstretched legs, “I know that. I’m not discounting any of it. I’m just…” You shake your head a little, taking in his tight jaw, his bright, indignant eyes. “Maybe it’s because I was there, but dinner kinda felt like pulling teeth, that’s all.” When Jonathan makes no answer, you lamely tack on, “And I like your teeth. Like, inside your mouth.” 

Jonathan huffs out a laugh, head tipping forward to nod a little. You scooch closer to him, sitting on the step just below his, drawing from the joint again before holding it out. He takes it, but doesn’t raise it to his lips. He just twiddles with it for a moment, ashes slipping to his outstretched thighs. You reach out, brushing them away absently before you lean back again, tucking your hands into your sleeves to warm them. 

“We should’ve gotten two pizzas,” Jonathan mutters, “You’re right, we shouldn’t have let Mira stay. I’m hungry again.”

You snort, head lolling to the side to look at him. 

“We? It’s your house, Levy. I didn’t let her do anything, that was aaalll you,” You insist, waggling your finger at his face. “You stay here and puff, I’ll go order more food. Still pizza?” 

“Mm…You know what?” Jonathan pushes himself up, “Let’s make something.” 

“You wanna cook?” 

“Yes.” 

“...Can you cook?” 

“C’mon,” He chuckles, “You’re going to eat your words—and a delicious dinner.” 

“Delicious second dinner.” 

Jonathan pushes himself up and holds his hand out. You take one more drag from the joint, stub it out on the step, and let Jonathan tug you up. You lose your balance as you reach your feet, and the both of you wobble for a moment, clasping one another’s hands tightly. 

“You okay?” He asks, chuckling. 

“Uh-huh.” You keep your hold on Jonathan’s hand, leading the way to the back door. “So, what are we making?” 

“What are you hungry for?”

Dick. 

It springs up in your swirling, dirty mind, and you can’t help but break into giggles. You slow in your step at the threshold, hinging forward just a touch as the laughter makes your stomach hurt.

“What?” Jonathan whirls around, your giggles catching as he begins to chuckle. “What is it?”

You wave him off, but his repeated questioning makes your laughter swell. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” He presses, laughing. He slides his arm around your middle, straightening you. Your steps drag and stumble as he draws you closer, your hands landing on his chest to steady yourself. 

“Noth—nothing!” You insist, just barely managing to catch your breath. You raise a hand, swiping at your tearing eyes before you rest it against his chest again. 

It’s a mistake. You’ve been close to Jonathan, but not quite like this. His fingers flex in your shirt as you calm; his gaze sweeps your face, and your stomach flips as his focus lingers and holds on your lips. Your giggling quiets, and you find yourself somewhat sobered, chilled in Jonathan’s doorway, and warmed by his grasp. You clear your throat, averting your gaze. 

“Everything,” You finally tell him. “I’m hungry for everything.” 

“Everything?” His voice is lower than you thought it may be; it sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, patting his chest once before twisting out of his hold, heading for the fridge. 

“So!” You open the door, squinting at the harsh brightness of the fridge. “What have we got?” You keep your gaze on the shelves as you hear Jonathan’s footsteps growing nearer. It’s another few moments before you feel the heat of him behind you. Your eyes slip closed as his breath brushes your neck, his murmur rasping across your jaw:

“Whatever you want.” 

“Lobster?”

“...Whatever you want within reason.” 

“I think lobster’s pretty reasonable.”

“Do you see lobster in my fridge?”

“I haven’t checked the drawers yet.”

“I would advise you not to get your hopes up.”

– 

It’s pretty easy to sink into cooking with Jonathan. He knows his way around the kitchen, and it’s…Sort of hot. 

You’re almost certain that his knife skills would be a little more refined if the two of you hadn’t just smoked. Still, his hands are steady and sure as he cooks. Talk turns to lighter topics—work, assignments, students, a project that Ava’s been working on for the Science Fair. You avoid your conversation from the backyard, and anything regarding the first disastrous meal that you had that evening. When the two of you settle down to eat, you sit side by side again, as you had when Mira has been there. You don’t have a good reason this time—no excuse to budge up close. That doesn’t stop you. You just sit side by side, arms and legs brushing against one another’s. 

Jonathan seems to wait as you take the first bite. You can’t help but groan as the flavor floods your mouth. 

“Holy shit,” You mumble around the mouthful. 

“As good as lobster?” Jonathan teases. 

“Nope. Better.” 

You glance over to see Jonathan shovel a bite into his mouth, a bashful smile pulling his lips. 

“Hidden talents, Levy. I’m impressed.” 

“It’s a pretty simple recipe.”

“It’s a pretty tasty one. Don’t downplay your skill.” 

“Well. Thank you.” 

“Hell, thank you. Frickin’ good. This hits the spot.” 

–

You lean back in your seat, taking up your glass of wine and taking a sip as you eye your empty plate. You glance up at Jonathan, raising a brow as he glances back at you. He’s poking at his food, his tongue sweeping his lips. You arch your brow, shaking your head a little  in confusion before you chuckle, “What?” 

“What were you laughing at before?” 

Oh—god. 

“Nothing.”

“You were laughing over nothing? I don’t believe that.”

“You say that like the weed’s never made you giggly before��which I know is a complete lie.” 

“It’s usually sparked by something, though.” 

“It kinda was.” 

“So?”

“It was just a dumb thought,” You blink rapidly, trying to moisten your dry eyes. “I can’t even remember what it was anyway.” 

Jonathan nods slowly before he reaches out, spearing a piece of the pasta remaining on your plate. 

“You blink a lot when you’re lying.”

“What?”

“Your eyes,” He raises the fork, waving it at you. “You blink extra when you’re lying.”

“I do not! I’m so dry,” You laugh. “It’s the weed!” 

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Jonathan teases, smile widening as you give his shoulder a light shove. 

“Shuddup,” You mumble. 

“You staying tonight?” 

“...If I can.”

“Of course you can.” 

“Then yes.” 

“Need to borrow a shirt to sleep in again?”

“Uh-huh.” 

“Alright. Lemme just get this cleaned up—”

“Nooo,” You whine, reaching out and grasping Jonathan’s sleeve before he can get up and take up your plates. “I’ll do ‘em in the morning. C’mon,” You urge, straightening up. “Let’s see what’s on tv.”

“I think there’s a new Ken Burns doc on PBS.” 

“Oh yeah? What’s this one about?” 

“The Edwardian Era.”

“Oh heckie yeah.” 

– 

“Are you falling asleep on me?” 

“...A little,” You mumble. You burrow into Jonathan’s side, pouting when you feel him drawing back a touch. 

“...That’s pretty good,” He mutters.

“What is?”

“You seem to have mastered lying without blinking. But, that’s probably because you’re falling asleep.” 

You snuggle closer, pressing your face into his neck, smiling as his beard gently brushes your forehead. 

“You wanna go to bed?” He adds.

You know he just means to sleep, that he doesn't mean anything by it, but the question makes you prickle with interest. Still, you push yourself up with a nod, and a yawned mumble of, “Yah.” 

It’s become standard operating procedure. You never do this when Ava is there—hell, you never smoke when Ava is there. But when Jonathan’s got the house to himself, and you spend the evening smoking and chatting, you almost always spend the night. 

Jonathan takes hold of your hand, drawing you up off of the couch. He doesn’t let go of you as the two of you shuffle back to his makeshift bedroom. You lean in the doorway, smiling as he tosses you the shirt that you usually sleep in. 

“Thanks. I’ll take the bathroom upstairs.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“I better not hear you doing the dishes,” You warn, heading back into the hall. 

--  

Dick. 

The thought bubbles up again as you wash your face, but it doesn’t make you burst into giggles again. It does make you smile a bit as you wash away the cleanser that you’re using (one of Mira’s, you think—some bottle that she either forgot or didn’t care about when she and Poli came and moved the rest of her things out. It’s lightly fragranced, and more high-end than you’re used to using. You’re dreading it running out—you’re sort of spoiled for other cleansers now).

You shut the water off and take up a dry washcloth, patting your skin dry before you brace your hands on the sink. You let your eyes wander your face in the mirror before you straighten up, clearing your throat and trying to clear your mind. You’re still a little buzzed, but you’re winding down. You’re getting sleepy, too. The nervous adrenaline of spending time with Mira, seeing Jonathan trying to be so obliging and seeming so uncomfortable, and eating such a tasty second dinner is all starting to slow you down. 

You’re in a cuddly, sleepy mood. In the past, with other people, that’s made you pretty fricking stupid—moves and passes made, friends and exes slept with, relationships made, boosted, bolstered, broken.

Your friendship with Jonathan has become far too dear to allow yourself to get stupid about him now. 

Stiil, there you are, climbing into his bed and rolling onto your side. Jonathan is on his back, but he’s watching you. His eyes are still a little bloodshot, and he blinks slowly. Your lips twitch with a smile at a memory, and your turn your face into the pillow. But you’re not fast enough. 

“What?” Jonathan asks. 

“Mm?” 

“What? Why are you smiling like that?” 

“Nothing!” 

“Nothing again? C’mon,” He urges with a soft chuckle. “Let me in.” 

You turn your head to meet his eye again, biting your lip. Jonathan’s gaze flickers, sweeping to your lips, then up again. 

“I was just thinking of the first night I stayed here,” You admit. “When you asked me about the last time I’d slept with anyone—” 

“Oh…God, I forgot about that,” Jonathan groans, head rolling back to stare at the ceiling instead. Your smile widens as you scooch a little closer. 

“And then your chest got all…You know,” You reach out, resting your hand on his chest and giving it a little rub. 

“It wasn’t that bad. It got a little tight for a second.” 

“I know.” 

“I didn’t need my inhaler—” 

“I know!” 

You can feel Jonathan’s heartbeat in his chest. It seems to tick up beneath your hands. You begin to draw your hand away, as though you’ve become privy to something that you shouldn’t feel. But before you can get far, Jonathan rests his hand over yours. The weight and warmth of his palm is comforting, and makes your smile widen. 

“For the record,” You tack on, “You’re the last person I slept with. I mean, you know. Have been asleep with.” 

Jonathan hums thoughtfully, his thumb sweeping along the side of your hand. 

“Still haven’t told me the last time you had sex,” He mumbles. Your brows raise. You wait for a moment for his apology, his justification that he’s still high, his insistence that you don't have to answer, but he lets it hang there. You sweep your tongue across your lips, considering. 

“It’s been a while,” You finally admit. 

“How long?” 

“Why do you wanna know?” 

“I’m just curious.” He tips his head to meet your eye. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” 

You nod. “I know.” Then, “It’s been…I mean…Fuck, I don’t know. A while.” 

“Really?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Any particular reason?” 

“At first, yeah. I got out of a serious relationship and I needed…Space. There’s that old adage, you know, the quickest way to get over someone is to get under someone, but that had gotten me into the relationship in the first place, so. I wasn’t exactly leaping to get in bed with someone else.” 

“You got in bed with me.” 

“Yeah, but we haven’t fucked.” You tip you head to the side, sweeping your gaze over his. 

“...No,” He murmurs. “We haven’t.” 

You bite your lip, lowering your gaze to your hands. You slip yours out from under his, reveling in the cool slip of the fabric of his shirt beneath your fingers before you raise your hand a little, trailing your fingertip down his pinky, then across to trace across his knuckles. 

“Go to sleep, Jonathan,” You advise softly.

“Can’t.” 

“Can’t?” You smooth your finger over the back of his forearm. “Why not?” 

“It’s hard, sometimes."

“What is?” 

“...Sleeping when you’re here.” 

You think you should lean back. You ought to lean back. But before you can make a move, Jonathan’s rolling onto his side, pressing his face into your shoulder. Your hand shifts as he does, smoothing up over his bicep to his shoulder. You bite your lip, raising your hand to smooth through his hair, settling on the back of his neck. 

“I can go,” You offer, eyelids fluttering as his hand smooths over your hip. 

“I don’t want you to.” 

“That the weed talking?” 

“Why can’t it be me?” Jonathan presses his face into your shoulder, nuzzling like a frightened child. “Why can’t it just be me?” 

“It can,” You soothe. “Just, you know. It’s been a long day and a weird…Weird evening. I think my question is valid.” 

You feel Jonathan tip his head up, feel as his beard brushes your cheek, his breath pushing against your cheekbone. 

“Can we sleep on it?” You implore softly, “Get the stuff out of our systems?” 

Jonathan doesn’t answer for a moment before he rolls onto his back, patting your hip and flopping onto the pillow with a groan, scrubbing his hands over his face. 

“That’s all I need,” He mumbles, “Someone else to get out of my system.” 

--  

You can’t sleep. You wait until you’re certain he’s asleep before you creep out of bed. You’re careful as you go, scooting down bit by bit under your feet hit the floor. You tip-toe out, careful not to step on any of the creaking boards. You stop in the doorway, watching Jonathan for a moment. 

You could leave—but christ, you don’t want to. You don’t think you could do that to him, especially not now. You know too much about him and his history to just disappear in the middle of the night. Frankly, you should both be sleeping on the dumbass shit you were about to do. You plop down onto the couch, turning the tv on and hurriedly lowering the volume before it can wake him up. You slouch down, eyeing an infomercial. You’re too lazy to flip through channels, so you let the sweet sounds of a Shamwow commercial send you off to sleep. 

-- 

“Hey.” 

“Mm.” 

“You hungry?” 

You consider, praying that he can’t hear the way your stomach groans in response before you can speak. It must be morning if he's asking.

“Little bit,” You mumble. You blink your sleepy eyes open, peering up at Jonathan. He hasn’t got his glasses on. He looks as tired as you are. 

“Why’d you come out here?” He asks, hand sliding down to your jaw. “Did I scare you off?” 

“No,” You shake your head. “I was tossing and turning. Didn’t wanna wake you up.” 

Jonathan nods a little, but he doesn’t seem to completely believe you. You pout a little, lowering your gaze from his as you reach up, gently fingering his collar. 

“If you’d scared me off, I would’ve left,” You point out. “I’m right here.” 

It takes another moment before Jonathan nods. You slip your tongue over your lips. 

“Did you sleep on it?” You hedge carefully. 

“Mhm.” 

“And?” 

“And…” Jonathan considers. “It wasn’t the weed.” 

Your heart thuds in your chest. You nod a little, thumb dipping beneath his collar, the nail tenderly scratching his skin. You bite your lip as you see his Adam’s apple bob with a thick swallow. 

“Good,” You chirp. “It wasn’t for me, either.” 

You should look him in the eye. Hell—you should get up and brush your goddamn teeth. But you lean up blindly, pressing your lips to his. It hardly takes a second before Jonathan’s hand is raising to cup your cheek, his lips sliding tenderly along yours. You smile, tenderly smoothing your hand down over his chest. You draw back a little bit, meeting his eye for a moment before bashfulness wells and washes over you. 

“Is there coffee?” You ask after a moment. 

“There can be.” 

“Okay. Okay,” You push yourself to sit up. “I'm gonna go wash my face. And uh…Brush my teeth.” 

“That might be for the best.” 

You scoff, reaching out and whacking his arm before you getting off of the couch. 

“You don’t exactly have the freshest breath either, buddy.” 

“I had a cigarette before I woke you up.” 

“That explains it.” 

You only get a couple of steps away before Jonathan takes hold of your hand, tugging you closer. You only have a moment to catch your bearings before you’re drawn into his chest, his lips covering yours again. You smile, raising your hand to cup his rough cheek, pushing a relieved sigh through your nose. You give him another peck before you lean back entirely, smiling as his fingers curl in the fabric of your shirt. 

“How much coffee do you want?” He asks. You grunt. 

“So much,” You twist out of his arms, turning away. “I want all of it, Levy.” 

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ;  @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @nolanell ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @bb-skyrunner (wouldn't let me tag) ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @aellynera ; @writefightandflightclub ; @thedukeofcaladan ; @beepboopyoda

#Jonathan Levy x Reader #Jonathan Levy x You #Jonathan Levy/Reader #Jonathan Levy/You #Jonathan Levy fic #Jonathan Levy imagine #Exhale #alright that's it for me for today lol

[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.

Masterlist here. Summer Drabbles here.

#jonathan levy #jonathan levy x reader #jonathan levy x you #jonathan levy x y/n #jonathan levy x female!reader #jonathan levy fluff #jonathan levy angst #jonathan levy fanfiction #jonathan levy fanfic #jonathan levy fic #jonathan levy x f!reader #jonathan levy imagine #scenes from a marriage fanfiction #scenes from a marriage #scenes from a marriage imagine #scenes from a marriage fic #oscar isaac

[moonknightyws]

He's magnificent.

#marvel #scenes of a marriage #jonathan levy smut #jonathan levy fanfiction #moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #poe dameron #marc spector smut #steven grant smut #steven grant x you #marc spector x reader #steven grant fic #steven grant x reader #steven grant fluff #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant one shot #steven grant imagine #marc spector fic #marc spector x you #marc spector angst #marc spector fluff #marc spector fanfiction #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley fic #jake lockley x you #jake lockley #jake lockley smut

[jakelcckley]

#IM SORRY DJSJJDNDD #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #oscar isaac imagine #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac x you #oscar issac smut #steven grant #moon knight #marc spector #jake lockley #mcu #marvel #marvels moon knight #marvel cinematic universe #jonathan levy #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #blue jones #william tell

[marc-spectorr]

Hello lovey! I’ve got a ✨MOOD BOARD✨ request (and it’s not Jake 👀)

Professor Jonathan Levy x reader (I’m thinking sugar daddy/ dom vibes but also domesticated? Idk if this will make any sense) Jonathan and reader having rented out a lovely log cabin middle of nowhere but it’s captivating! reader is requesting a very soft domestic day full of sweet soft sex, baking yummy sweets, baths, him reading to her, and nostalgic blanket forts by their fireplace 💕

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The scenery is more than beautiful; you silently think to yourself. Gorgeous, calming, peaceful, tranquil, serene... no word in the English language was quite enough to describe it.

Just like there isn’t a word to describe how happy Jonathan has made you by surprising you with a long weekend away from reality.

“I can’t believe we’re staying at this place for the next couple of days,” you reply, gesturing to the rustic cabin behind you. “It’s beautiful, baby. I love it— I love you.”

With a heartwarming smile, Jonathan wraps an around your waist, his graying beard tickling you as he presses a soft kiss to your warm lips. He pulls away shortly after, slightly out of breath, but his hold on you remains firm. “How about we celebrate our little getaway back inside, hmm?”

You’re eager to nod in agreement. Although you wanted to enjoy a glass of wine out on the deck, savoring the crispness of the open air, there’d be time to do all of that and more later. You don’t like to keep Jonathan waiting.

#jonathan levy #jonathan levy x reader #jonathan levy imagine #callie's 2k celebration