Self improvement is great but ultimately? you have to accept your self. Yes you can eat better, exercise more, read more, set boundaries, love your self, but it all comes down to this. Some days you won’t have the energy to do any of these things. And you’ll look in the mirror and think that this is not enough. That’s a lie. The biggest love for self is to live slowly. To rest. To really rest. Have a nap. Eat what makes you feel good. Read if you want to. Embrace yourself and accept that you cannot and will not be ever be perfect. Accept that you are good enough. You don’t need to keep busy all the time. you don’t need to go out all the time and post on instagram. You don’t need to journal if you don’t want to. You don’t need to make art if you don’t want to. Breathe, give yourself grace and compassion. Give yourself the love and tenderness you so badly need. Be gentle with yourself. You are trying and it is good enough. You are good enough.
jason slumped onto the worn out couch in his dingy apartment, the city's distant hum filtering through the cracked window. it had been a week since he'd last seen you. you were out a girl trip with your friends.
he pulled out his phone, thumb scrolling through the gallery he'd curated just for nights like this. pictures of you, one from last month's date, your lips curved in a smile as you leaned against him in that tight black dress, cleavage spilling just enough to make his mouth water. another from your shared bed, your hair tousled, sheets barely covering your bare breasts after a lazy morning fuck.
his cock twitched in his jeans at the sight, already half-hard from the mere thought of you.
"fuck, i miss you so much, baby." he muttered to the empty room, voice rough with need. "your tits look so perfect—i wanna suck on those nipples until you're soaking wet for me." he unzipped his pants, freeing his thickening cock. it sprang out, heavy and veined, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.
wrapping his calloused hand around the base, he gave it a slow stroke, eyes locked on your image. in the photo, your eyes sparkled with that playful fire, the same one that had you begging for more when he'd pinned you down and thrust deep into your pussy.
"yeah, just like that—remember how i fucked you hard, stretching that tight little pussy?" he growled under his breath, his strokes picking up pace. he switched to your social media, heart pounding as he found your latest post. there you were, in a bikini by the pool, the fabric clung to your curves, nipples faintly visible through the wet material, your ass arched just right as you posed on all fours.
"goddamn, look at that ass. i wanna bend you over and ram my cock into you right now, make you scream my name while i pound your dripping cunt." jason groaned, pumping his cock faster. he imagined flipping you over right there, spreading your legs and burying his face between your thighs, tongue lapping at your clit until you screamed his name.
his hand moved in steady rhythm, slick sounds filling the air as pre-cum lubed his shaft. "fuck, you'd taste so good—i'm gonna eat that pussy until you cum all over my face." he whispered harshly, thumb circling the sensitive head of his cock. he zoomed in on your face, that soft, parted-lip expression making him think of how you looked when he fucked you from behind, your moans muffled into the pillow.
"you have no idea what you do to me, slut—taking my dick like a good girl, begging for me to fill you up." the tension coiled low in his gut, building with every stroke, every stolen glance at your body.
he opens his photo app again. you on your knees, looking up at him with those wide eyes, mouth open and ready. he'd snapped it mid-blowjob, your lips stretched around his cock, saliva dripping down your chin. jason's breath hitched, his free hand gripping the phone tighter as he jerked harder, hips bucking up into his fist. "suck it, baby—deepthroat me like you did before, choke on my thick cock while i fuck your throat." he pictured your warm mouth sucking him deep, throat contracting around him while your hands fondled his balls.
sweat beaded on his forehead, muscles tensing as the pressure mounted. a video jason took played next—a short clip of you dancing in a short skirt, hips swaying, teasing glimpses of your thighs. "that's it, baby, shake that ass for me. i'm gonna grab those hips and slam into your wet pussy until you can't walk straight." he growled, stroking from base to tip with urgent twists.
the orgasm hit him like a freight train. jason's head fell back, a guttural moan ripping from his throat as ropes of cum shot across his abs, hot and thick. "fuckkk yes, take my load—i'm cumming for you, imagining shooting it deep inside your pussy." he panted, his cock pulsing in his hand, spilling more with each aftershock.
the release doing little to ease the longing. panting, he stared at your photo, wiping his hand on his shirt before typing a quick message. "miss you baby. can't wait to see you again."
fuck buddy! robert robertson who loves talking while fucking. He’ll whisper filthy things in your ear while keeping one hand gripping your waist or thigh, making you whimper, gasp, and obey his every command.
fuck buddy! robert robertson even though it’s casual, he dominates. He likes to make you stay still sometimes, holding your hands above your head, thrusting deep while telling you exactly how good you feel.
fuck buddy! robert robertson who doesn’t care if things get a little messy. Spit, sweat, slick—he loves it all. He’s the type to lean down and kiss you hard in the middle of a rough session, biting and licking your lips as he fucks you.
fuck buddy! robert robertson who sometimes makes you count with him while he thrusts, teasing you as he speeds up. “One, two, three… hold it… don’t come yet,” he growls, knowing how to push you to the edge.
fuck buddy! robert robertson even outside the bedroom, he can’t help himself. A sly touch under the table at dinner, a brush against your thigh, or a low murmur in your ear will make you squirm, reminding you that he owns these moments even when it’s casual.
fuck buddy! robert robertson after he fucks you, he doesn’t get soft right away. He’ll praise you in a rough way, still holding your hips, “You feel so good, you little slut. All mine,” before letting you collapse into him.
fuck buddy! robert robertson you both enjoy the thrill without labels. He’s possessive in the moment, demanding and rough, but outside the bedroom, he keeps it playful and teasing.
fuck buddy! robert robertson who likes to make you beg before the main event. Maybe a hand on your thigh while you’re watching a movie, whispering how wet you already are, making you squirm before he finally takes you.
fuck buddy! robert robertson sometimes he’s rough and leaves you a little breathless and sore, but occasionally he’ll stroke your hair, kiss your forehead, and smirk, “Not bad for a fuck buddy, huh?”
imagine dry humping sam winchester and he's getting too desperate...
the mini cotton shorts you wore to bed, which was barely even covering your ass, is what got you in this position. being seated on sam's lap, desperately grinding on his clothed shaft. you didn't even need to see his cock to know he was leaking precum and getting so painful.
your neck was completely covered in hickeys and bite marks, from when he couldn't control himself anymore. a few purple pigments covered his skin beautifully too. however, he has been pulling you off his neck by grabbing your hair every time he felt you sucking on his skin, because he was going to cum in his pants right then and there if you continued for a second too long.
he was rock hard underneath you. and it felt so good every time your clit rubbed against him. you could feel the thickness, the length, that one specific vein through his plaid pajama pants. you could feel everything even through 2 pieces of clothing separating you.
his hands are shaky when he grips your thighs around him, desperate to hold onto something. he grabs your face and pulls you in a kiss yet again, his tongue tangling with yours. you press your hips even closer to his and he moans in your mouth. deep and loud. god, he feels like a teenager all over again.
he pulls away slightly, a string of spit still connecting your lips. the beautiful mess of both your saliva mixing together is completely covering both your mouths.
"jesus- don't-" his shaky voice cracks, his head dropping back to the bed's headboard, "please don't stop."
you start speeding up, the feeling so overwhelmingly perfect for both of you, sam has to immediately grab your hips in a tight, painful grip to ground himself.
then he starts whimpering, and boy, can he whimper. he was a sight for sore eyes. sweaty, desperate, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
his hands start gripping and clinging on everything. your hips, thighs, clothes, chest, anything.
he looks at you like you're the only real thing left in his life. and in this exact moment, you really are.
he really is too desperate.
notes this may be too short im sorry its 4am for me :3
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