⠀ ৶ ⠀ southern sweetheart ! reader . . . who’s the town favorite girl , eye - catching outfits with a red / white / brown color palette .

⠀ ৶ ⠀ she’s soft spoken &︭ polite but can get bold and sassy which surprised many . she’s confident and hate to be taken for granted .

⠀ ৶ ⠀ secretly a perv , big into anal . most likely to have a degradation kink . being perceived as just a sweet girl has its pros !

⠀ ৶ ⠀ brown lip combo , plumping gloss glistening under the sun , pump heels , short skirts … frilly dresses , transparent nightgown upon a delicate lacey lingerie set .

⠀ ৶ ⠀ “ darlin’ ” , “ hon ” , “ sweetie ” are like suffixes for her . always adding those whenever she’s speaking to someone , never missing out on letting the terms of endearment escape her mouth with that southern drawl lingering .

⠀ ৶ ⠀ southern sweetheart ! reader whose partners are always worshiping the ground she walks on because she’s just the sweetest person ever .

⠀

　　　　　　　𝒍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬　　𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭　　:

　•　‘benjamin’ soldier boy　⊱　dean winchester　⊱　‘andrew’ pope cody　+　more to come　..

　　　　　　　 𝒇𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬　　𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭　　:

⠀•⠀strawberry & cheese cake ⠀ ͎⠀dean winchester +¹⁸ㅤ

　　　　　　　 　 𝒎𝐢𝐬𝐜　　:

　•　all works　⊱　main masterlist　⊱　moodboards　+　more to come . . .

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 🧺 ⋆˚࿔

⠀

⠀⠀ 𝒾.⠀ 𓂅 ⠀·⠀⠀⠀　𝒕𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⠀ : @pittsick @vngelisse @rh1nestcned @cup1dssorrow @arervoir @mtcloudsworld @nuitts @lilahthedoll @amacphet , ⠀𓊆 to be added to the taglist , comment under this post or fill up the form 𓊇⠀.

⠀

You cry, a surplus of saliva leaking from the corner of your open mouth just to drip down your chin. Garrett groans above you, his hips snapping against your ass which creates skin-slapping-skin noises into the room. You are both sweaty, muscles burning from a previous orgasm. 

Moans are muffled as you let your head fall into the pillow, dampening the fabric with your saliva. “Mhpfhh! Please!” You just reply to his words, which makes him chuckle and fastens his pace. Your body is thrown forward and you have to push your hands against the headboard to not get hit. Your gummy walls clench around Garrett’s fat cock, your leaking juices mixing with his pre-cum.

“Fuck! Fuck, yes, please!” You gasp at him, one hand tugging on the pillow.

“I know, pretty, I know. Right there, right? Tell me how it feels.” He says back, angling his hips forward while one of his strong hands moves to spread your asscheeks apart, giving him the opportunity to go deeper inside you. His cock spreads your walls apart, finger digging into the fat of your skin while he fucks you. Your head lolls onto the pillow, tears forming at the corner of your eyes from pleasure.

The hand he had on your asscheeks moves to your face, brushing baby hair away from your forehead while his free arm moves to wrap around your throat, gently pushing your head up just so he’s able to see your face. “Let me see you, fuck—you’re so pretty like that… You take it so well, baby.” His voice vibrates inside your ear but you’re too focused on the sensation of his shaft spreading you open.

Squelching noises echo inside the room, eaten by the party outside. There’s something exalting about thinking of someone opening Garrett’s door right now, about seeing him on top of you and fucking you. 

With your hair brushed away, he’s now able to press kisses to the side of your face; they are messy and wet but you don’t care enough to say something. His mouth lowers to the spot you like the most: right under your earlobe and his tongue darts out to lick the sweat off of your skin. A moan leaves your mouth, gummy walls clenching around his walls for a second which makes Garrett groan. 

“You feel so good, baby. Such a good girl, doing so good for me.” He praises once more and your back arches toward his hips, making him snap against your ass even harder.

You can feel the muscle of his bicep bulging against your throat as he tightens his grip just slightly to shift his position, taking more support with his knees. His cold necklace rubs against your shoulder, then your neck before you swear the chain is everywhere.

Your pussy is a mess right now; both from the previous orgasm your boyfriend had given you but also from the way he is now fucking you. You feel your juices sticking to your skin, coating your folds and the bedsheets as your pussy is pushed against the bed with each of Garrett’s thrusts. Your sensitive clit is rubbing against the cotton sheet, bringing another layer of stimulation to the moment.  

A gasp is let out of your mouth after a rather hard thrust from your boyfriend, his bulbous tip hitting your g-spot which made your legs shake. “Yes, please! Right there, Garrett!” You cry out, mouth wide open with drool at the corner of your mouth. 

Garrett groans at that, both his arms moving just so he can press his palms flat against the mattress and push his upper body slightly upward. One of your own hands flies backward blindly until your fingers wrap around his necklace, bringing him back down a little. “Fuck, baby, come on. You’re going to come for me, yeah?” He voices at you, rutting his hips against your ass which drags his cock against your walls, deeper inside you.

Garrett’s eyes lowers to see the creamy white ring around the girth of his cock, created by your sloppy pussy and how your butt bounces each time he thrust back in. 

You can’t even warn him before the orgasm courses through you, making you shake and gasp loudly. “Fuck! oh my God, fuck!” You swear, both hands now moving to the pillow to tug on the fabric as you come. Your walls immediately squeeze Garrett’s cock, closing down to milk him dry and your sensitive clit rubs down against the sheet, dampening it with your juices. 

“That’s it—fuck, good girl. You’re squeezing me so good. I’m coming, shit…” He groans above you, your thoughts too fuzzy to listen to what he says. 

Garrett thrusts a few more times inside you before pulling out in a wet pop! noise. You gasp, feeling empty and cold now that his warm cock is out of you. The pillow is thrown out of the bed as you turn your head to look behind; seeing Garrett jerking himself off with eyebrows furrowed.

“Shit, coming… Coming!” He says before his muscles contract, his cock pulsating as it shoots warm, thick loads onto your butt. 

You can’t help but chuckle at the amount of semen that is now coating your skin, your arch arching and ass getting up to show off the view to your boyfriend. “You made a mess on me.” You express, Garrett laughing at that before his body shifts to grab some tissues inside his bedtable. 

“Because my girlfriend is too pretty to not make a mess for.” He says, cleaning your skin from his semen and your own juices but being careful to change tissues to do that. You hum at his words, letting yourself rest inside his bed after being clean. Garrett throws the tissues before rolling into his bed, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Think anyone heard us?” He asks, free hand grabbing the blanket to cover the both of you. You shake your head, the music from the party outside still blasting against the walls, mixing with chatters and laughter. “No, I don’t think so.” You say, resting on your side to see him.

“Guess we can be louder next time.” You roll your eyes at those words. “And what? Have them hear us?” 

Garrett hums. “Why not?” 

“ the restaurant i wanted to try you with you tonight has been closed . for repairs. ” his eyes softens and he comes up behind you . you put down the tool as he lean over to press a kiss near your mouth . that mango perfume of yours heads to his nostril , he nuzzle his face in your neck . his mouth peppers all over the brown skin your pink tank top with yellow polka dots exposes .

“ don’t be so sad , baby . it’s not a big deal , you know . we can come back later and go try a new restaurant instead . ” his voice breaks the silence , smooth , warm , reassuring . he’s like a warm fire camp on a cold night . “ didn’t you send me another reel about that seafood restaurant downtown ? near sephora ? ”

“ hm. ” you pick up the strands framing your face and cut it short with your scissors . jack had leaned back , this time it’s his hands you feel settle on your hips . his thumbs are caressing the area lovingly through the fabric of your white capris . “ i don’t feel like eating conch or whatever they’re serving tonight . ”

“ i do feel like eating conch tonight . ” and you give him a glare , lifting your brow . the innuendo doesn’t go unnoticed by you and he has a sheepish smile on his smile he brushes off immediately to replace it with a serious expression this time . “ that was better in my head , sorry baby . what does the lady feels like eating tonight ? we have plenty of choices . ”

“ i don’t know jackie . meat ? maybe some grill restaurant . i’m craving beef right now . ” he nodded in agreement behind you and quickly retrieved himself not without offering you a light smack on your butt . “ then finish to get ready , baby . i’m gonna find you the best grill restaurant downtown .”

the smack caused you to jump but you don’t comment on it . one because you actually enjoyed it and two, your stomach had priorities : eating . “ okay , i trust you . you’re the best jackie . ”

⠀⠀ 𝒾.⠀ 𓂅 ⠀·⠀⠀⠀　𝒕𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⠀ : @pittsick @rh1nestcned @cup1dssorrow @arervoir @mtcloudsworld @nuitts @lilahthedoll @amacphet , ⠀𓊆 to be added to the taglist , comment under this post or fill up the form 𓊇⠀.

“Oh,” you said, offering a small smile as you walked closer. “Didn't know you were here.” It was nothing; a harmless sentence, one spoken without a second thought. But something inside Sam caved in so quickly it made his chest ache.

Years.

Years spent learning how to stand a little straighter, how to bury every insecurity beneath confidence, how to become someone people could rely on without ever wondering if he needed someone too. Years convincing himself that the uncertain veteran who came home after Riley died—the man who constantly questioned whether he was enough—had finally become someone stronger.

Captain America, a leader, the guy people believed in and somehow five simple words stripped all of it away.

Didn't know you were here.

Of course you hadn't, you hadn't come hoping to find him, you hadn't expected him and you hadn't even considered the possibility. He looked back down at his drink before you could notice the way his expression had shifted. “You mind?” you asked, gesturing toward the empty stool beside him. Sam shrugged. “Go ahead.”

You settled beside him, ordering yourself something without taking your eyes off him for very long. There was a familiarity in the silence that followed, but not the comfortable kind it used to be: once upon a time the two of you could sit together for hours without speaking because words had never been necessary but now, every pause felt like something fragile balancing between you.

“You've been here long?” you finally asked. “A while.” Sam only replied, shrugging at the question leaving your mouth.

“Long day?”

“They're all long.” You smiled faintly, then. “That sounds about right.” He answered with a hum that barely counted as conversation. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could feel you studying him, trying to decide whether to push or let him retreat into himself. You'd always been good at reading him, sometimes better than he understood himself. It used to comfort him, but tonight it only made him feel exposed.

“I watched your interview yesterday,” you said after another minute. “You looked good.” Sam let out a quiet laugh that held no amusement. “Did I?” You nodded your head at his reply, eyes shifting from his drink and back to his face. “You did.” Sam hummed once more at the words leaving your mouth. 

“I smiled.”

“That's usually what people mean.”

“No.” He rolled the glass slowly between his palms. “People confuse smiling with being okay.” Your eyebrows pinched together and you hesitated before replying, not knowing what to say back just for the tiniest amount of seconds. “I… I wasn't trying to.”

 Sam hummed at that before voicing again. “I know.”

The conversation threatened to die again, but neither of you seemed willing to let it. “I've missed you,” you admitted quietly. His fingers stopped moving. The words should have warmed him but instead they only made his chest tighten. “You miss me,” he repeated, almost to himself and you nodded your head. “I do.”

“Which one?”

You blinked at the words, not fully understanding what he meant by that. “What?"”

“Captain America?” His voice remained calm, almost conversational. “The guy on television? The one giving speeches? The one carrying the shield?” Your eyebrows furrowed once more and you were quick to defend yourself.  “What? No?” And Sam was as quick as you when it came to keep talking.

“The hero?”

“No.”

“The guy who's always somewhere else?” You frowned, confused by the edge creeping into his voice. “I just miss you, Sam.” The words left your mouth and he looked at you then, really looked. For a second, silence took over the conversation, broken by the people around.

“You walked in here,” he said softly, “and your first reaction was surprise.” Your mouth opened, then closed again, unable to give an explanation to that because in the end, he was right. “I just meant—”

“I know what you meant.”

“I didn't expect—”

“Exactly.” His smile was small, tired, almost apologetic. “You didn't expect me.” Silence settled over the both of you, the kind that suddenly made the music feel too loud, one that made the shame boil inside your body and you couldn’t explain why.

“I think…” Sam swallowed hard before continuing. “I think I've spent so much time trying to become someone people admire that I forgot how badly I still want to simply be... expected.” You stared at him after those words.

He laughed under his breath, embarrassed by how honest he'd just been. “That's pathetic.” You immediately shook your head before speaking up. “No, it’s not.” But Sam didn’t want to believe the words leaving your mouth and he chuckled, even though it wasn’t with humor.  “It kind of is.” He said again before shaking his head. “You know what's funny? I really believed I'd outgrown this.”

“Outgrown what?”

“This feeling.” He gestured vaguely toward himself. “I thought after everything… after the shield, after the battles, after people started believing in me—I wouldn't be shaken by little things anymore.” His eyes drifted toward the amber liquid sitting untouched in his glass.

“I thought I'd finally become…” He searched for the word before finding it. “...cool.” You couldn't help smiling a little before asking for more detail, more information. “Cool?”

“Confident and untouchable or whatever. Something like that, I guess.” His shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. “I spent years becoming that version of myself.” He finally met your eyes again. “And then you say, didn’t know you were here, and suddenly it feels like none of it mattered.” The words hung between you, heavier than either of you expected.

You reached toward him instinctively, hesitating only long enough to let him pull away if he wanted but he didn't. Your fingers rested lightly over his hand.

“Sam.”

“I know you didn't mean it.” He replied quietly, his free fingers tightening around the glass. “I didn't.” You said, as quietly as he did.

“I know.”

“But that's not what I was thinking.” You still added just for Sam to reply with, “What were you thinking?”

You smiled sadly. “I was thinking…” You looked down for a moment, collecting the right words. “How stupid I am for not realizing this was Friday.” He frowned at that, looking at you for a second like you had grown two heads suddenly and his voice became slightly louder.

“What?”

“You've been coming here on Fridays for years.” You squeezed his hand gently. “I should've known where to find you.” His expression faltered, then, like he had realized something. “I wasn't disappointed.” You added, to prove a point that was already done.

“I know.”

“I was surprised because I haven't seen you here in months.” Your eyes lowered when you said those words, just to lift up to Sam’s face again. “And for one second…” You laughed softly through the ache in your voice. “I got excited.” Sam stared at you for a second as you spoke once more. “I thought maybe we'd accidentally found each other.” Neither of you spoke after that.

The noise around the bar continued without caring about the quiet revelation unfolding in the corner booth; someone cheered over a game of darts, glasses clinked together, a burst of laughter erupted near the jukebox. Sam felt his throat tighten as he choked out some words. “I heard something completely different… I heard…” His voice cracked almost imperceptibly. “...that you wished I wasn't here.”

“Oh, Sam.” You moved from your stool before thinking about it, stepping close enough that your knees brushed his, heart skipping inside your chest and not in the good way you had felt in the past when around him. Carefully—giving him every chance to stop you—you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. For one stubborn heartbeat he remained perfectly still, then every wall he'd spent years building quietly collapsed.

His forehead rested against your shoulder, and he exhaled a breath he felt like he'd been holding for months.

“You scare me sometimes,” you whispered. He managed a tired laugh. “That's a first.” You hummed before shaking your head, trying to explain the sentence that had left your mouth. “Not because you're Captain America.”

“No?” You waited a few seconds before replying to that. The words blurted out without you thinking about them. “No, because you believe the cruelest version of every sentence.” He shut his eyes at that all while you continued rubbing slow circles across his back.

“You've never needed to become someone impressive for me.” Your voice was barely louder than the music around you. “You've always just been Sam. The man who checks whether everyone got home safely, the one who pretends cooking breakfast is harder than fighting aliens, the one who answers every problem with Marvin Gaye.” 

He laughed, and this time it sounded real. “I burn pancakes.” You chuckled quietly at his sentence, nodding your head because damn, he did. “You absolutely do.”

“I've gotten better with the years, I’ll tell you that.” He tried to defend himself, which made you chuckle once more. “You absolutely haven't.” Another laugh escaped him, softer now. When he finally pulled away, his eyes were damp, and judging by the shine in yours, neither of you had escaped the conversation untouched.

“I guess…” he murmured, “...healing isn't becoming impossible to hurt.” You smiled and he kept talking. “It's trusting that someone will stay after they've hurt you by accident.” You intertwined your fingers with his without hesitation. “And reminding you that one sentence doesn't erase ten years.” Sam looked down at your joined hands before giving them a gentle squeeze after finishing his words.

For the first time that evening, the ache inside his chest loosened, not because the scars had disappeared.

But because someone had finally reminded him they were never the only thing worth seeing.