Hey!
I am not sure if you're taking requests, so I am sorry if I am bothering you. However, may I request a prompt where the reader and Sam are cooking or even baking together? And it's all fluffy and cute but it could turn into some soft sex towards the end. On the countertop too to make it even more "umph", because who wouldn't want the Sam Winchester to absolutely ruin them? Bonus if reader is wearing one of his flannels or his graphic shirts, and either extremely short shorts or just in their underwear.
Extra bonuses if Sam praises reader with sweet nothings. Like, he is so gentle yet passionate with them.
Thank you for your work! Love reading them :)
- 🐭
Thank you so much for the request!! for anyone who cares use this post as a "YES" i am taking requests :)))
I do femreader only, as I am most comfortably writing that, but I could try other things if requested :))
Anyways I loved writing this soooo much I love soft dom sam aughhhh and thank you so much for the request and also thank you so much for your sweet words!! anyways I hope you enjoy this!! —
WARNINGS | MDNI – smut with plot, baking, softdom!sam, subfem!reader, a bit of fingering, praise, gentle to a bit rough, unprotected p in v, cum eating, creampie, soft aftercare. probably missed a few – but enjoy!!
The golden afternoon sun spilled through the windows, painting the kitchen in warm, honeyed light. The air was thick with the sweet, comforting scent of vanilla and sugar, mingling with the faintest hint of cinnamon from the open spice jar on the counter. The batter in the bowl was smooth, velvety, speckled with tiny black vanilla bean seeds—almost perfect, but not quite.
You hummed along to the soft melody playing from the speaker, your hips swaying gently as you whisked. The rhythm was slow, lazy, matching the unhurried pace of the day. A quiet contentment settled over you, the kind that came with lazy afternoons and stolen moments.Sam’s broad frame pressed against your back, his chest solid and familiar. His hands found your hips, fingers tracing slow, idle patterns over the fabric of his flannel—*his* flannel, the one you’d stolen that morning, barely long enough to cover your thighs. The only other thing you wore were those lacy panties he loved so much, the ones that made his breath catch every time he glimpsed them.
His chin rested on your shoulder, his stubble brushing your skin in a way that sent little shivers down your spine. You could feel his smile against your neck before he even spoke. “Mmm. Smells good,”* he murmured, his voice a deep, soothing rumble.
You laughed softly, tilting your head to the side to give him more room. “The batter or me?”
“Both,”* he admitted without hesitation, nuzzling into the curve of your shoulder. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. “But mostly you.”
You rolled your eyes playfully, though your cheeks warmed at the admission. “Sap.”
“Your sap,” he corrected, pressing a kiss just below your ear.
You shivered, your whisking faltering for a second. Sam noticed immediately, his hand covering yours, slowing your frantic movements into something gentler, more rhythmic. His fingers were rough from years of work, but his touch was tender, guiding yours with an easy confidence.
“Gotta be gentle,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.
“Since when are you the baking expert?”* you teased, glancing back at him.
Sam chuckled, and you felt it—that deep, delicious sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. His free hand trailed up your arm, fingertips tracing delicate lines along your skin, leaving warmth in their wake.
“Pie, remember?” he said, lips brushing your ear. “I’ve had practice.”
You snorted. *“You made one pie. One. And the crust was—”
“Hey,” he cut in, nipping lightly at your earlobe in protest. “It was rustic.”
“It was a crime against baking,” you shot back, grinning.
Sam huffed a laugh, his arms tightening around you. “You ate it anyway.”
“Because I love you,” you sighed dramatically, tilting your head back against his shoulder. “Not because it was good.”
He kissed your temple, his voice softening. “I know.”
A comfortable silence settled between you, filled only with the soft music and the rhythmic sound of the whisk against the bowl. Sam swayed with you, his body moving in time with yours, turning the simple act of stirring batter into something slow, intimate—a dance just for the two of you.
After a moment, he spoke again, his voice quieter. “You look cute in my shirt.”
You smirked. “I know.”
He pinched your side lightly, making you yelp and squirm. “Brat.”
“Your brat,” you shot back, echoing his earlier words.
“Yeah,” he agreed, voice rough. “Mine.”
His hand slid from yours, coming up to cup your jaw, turning your face toward his. The kiss was slow, sweet—vanilla and sugar and something uniquely Sam. When he pulled away, his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, his gaze lingering.
“Sam..the cookies” you murmured, it was weak, half-hearted, your voice already trembling as his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear.
“I don't care about the cookies,” he mumbled softly against your neck, words vibrating against your skin as he kissed down your neck, slow and open-mouthed. His teeth grazed lightly, just enough to make you whimper, before soothing the spot with his tongue. “Only care about you.”
You shivered, your fingers tightening around the edge of the counter as he crowded you against it, his body a solid wall of heat at your back. His hands slid up under the flannel-his flannel-palming your bare thighs before gripping firmly, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter. The mixing bowl clattered to the side, forgotten.
“Sam-” you gasped, but he cut you off with a searing kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your head spin.
“Shhh, sweetheart,” he murmured against your lips, one hand cupping your jaw while the other trailed down your chest, teasing over the thin fabric of his flannel. “Let me take care of you.”
You whimpered, arching into his touch as his fingers dipped beneath the the fabric, his thumb circling your nipple in slow, torturous circles. His other hand slid down your stomach, slipping beneath and tracing those lacy panties he loved so much.
“So fucking perfect,” he breathed, his voice rough with want as he felt how wet you already were for him. “Always soo..good for me, aren't you?”
You nodded desperately, your hips canting up into his touch. “Please-”
“I know, baby,” he soothed, kissing you again, deep and filthy, before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with desire. “Gonna make you feel so good.”
And then his fingers were sliding inside you, curling just right, his thumb pressing firm circles against your clit. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure coiled tight in your belly.
“That's it,” he praised, his voice a low, sinful rasp. “Let me hear you. Wanna know how good I make you feel.”
You moaned his name, your thighs trembling as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. But just as you were about to tip over, he pulled back, leaving you gasping and desperate.
“Sam!” you whined, your hips chasing his touch. He chuckled darkly, kissing the pout from your lips before nipping at your bottom lip. “Patience, ssweetheart”
Then his hands were on your hips, turning you around to face the counter. You barely had time to brace yourself before he was yanking the flannel up over your ass, his palm coming down in a sharp, stinging slap.
“Fuck!” you gasped, the pain melting instantly into pleasure.
“Such a pretty fucking sight,” Sam groaned, his hands kneading the flesh he'd just marked. “Gonna ruin you right here, baby. Just like this.”
You could hear the rustle of his belt, the sound of his zipper, and then he was pressing against you, his cock thick and heavy between your thighs.
“You ready for me?” he murmured, one hand softly caressing down your neck, making you arch your back.
“Yes—yes,” you begged, your fingers scrambling against the countertop.
“That's my girl.”
And then he was sliding inside you in one smooth, thrust filling you up to the brim, which completely stole your breath.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his grip on your hips tightening as he gave you a moment to adjust. “So damn tight. Always take me so well.”
You whimpered, pushing back against him, desperate for more.
Sam groaned, his lips finding your shoulder as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, each one dragging against that perfect spot inside you.
“That's it,” he praised, his voice rough with restraint. “Take me just like that. Fuck, you feel incredible.”
His pace quickened, each snap of his hips sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. One hand slid around to your front, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing tight, quick circles that had you seeing stars.
“Gonna make you come,” he spoke softly in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Wanna feel you squeeze around me, baby. Make you tremble while I fill you up.. So...c'mon pretty girl..come for me...be good for me”
It was too much-the stretch of him inside you, the relentless pressure of his fingers, the filthy praise falling from his lips-and with a broken cry, you shattered, your body clamping down around him as pleasure ripped through you.
Sam cursed, his thrusts growing erratic as he followed you over the edge, his release spilling deep inside you with a groan.
For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen was your ragged breathing. The occasional drip of the faucet, the distant hum of the refrigerator.
Then Sam was pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you back against his chest.
“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You're perfect.”
You laughed weakly, your legs still trembling as he softly pulled out of you, his remains..running down the counter.
The cool surface pressed into your bare skin, a sharp contrast to the heat still lingering between your thighs. Sam stood before you, his broad frame towering even as he softened, his chest glistening with a faint sheen of sweat in the golden afternoon light.
His hands—those rough, calloused hands that had just moments ago gripped your hips with such desperate need—were tender now, reverent. One settled on your waist, steadying you as your legs trembled. The other drifted lower, fingers brushing through the mess he’d left behind, his touch feather-light, almost apologetic.
You watched through half-lidded eyes as he lifted his thumb, glistening with the evidence of what you’d just done. A slow, lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he brought it to your mouth, dragging it along your bottom lip with deliberate slowness.
“Taste,” he murmured, voice rough, wrecked.
You parted your lips without hesitation, tongue flicking out to catch the salt-sweet tang of him. His breath hitched as you sucked gently at his thumb, your eyes locked on his.
“Good?” he asked, though the smug tilt of his mouth said he already knew the answer.
You nipped at his skin playfully before releasing him with a soft pop. “Mm. Needs more sugar.”
Sam barked a laugh, the sound rich and warm, filling the kitchen just as thoroughly as the scent of vanilla still lingering in the air. “You’re insatiable,” he accused, though the way his fingers flexed against your waist so gentle..firm.
You arched a brow, shifting just enough to feel the sticky mess between your thighs. “Says the man who just had me bent over the counter.”
“Well you looked too good..smelled too good” he teased softly, his expression softened, then his thumb brushing your cheek. “You okay?”
You nodded, leaning into his touch. “Mhm. Just… need a minute.”
He hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead before sliding his hands under your thighs and lifting you effortlessly. You yelped, arms looping around his neck as he carried you away from the counter.
“Sam—!”
“Shhh,”* he soothed, nuzzling into your hair. “Gonna clean you up.”
You huffed, but let him carry you to the sink, where he set you down gently on the edge. He reached for a clean dish towel, running it under warm water before turning back to you. His touch was achingly gentle as he wiped between your thighs, his free hand bracing against your knee to keep you steady.
“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, even as your chest swelled with affection.
Sam smirked. “Yeah, but you love me.”
You sighed, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging him closer. “Unfortunately.”
He laughed against your lips before kissing you, slow and deep, his hands framing your face like you were something precious. When he pulled away, his eyes were, warm.
And with that you got back to baking..this time no distractions, giggling, dancing and listening to music..
© gh0stlightss . ゜・
@regretdean
