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#the dishes
blooming-violets · 1 year
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Fucking her while she’s doing the dishes 🙃🙃🙃
You got it!
TASM Peter Parker x Fem!Reader smut || The Dishes
TW: I use the term "daddy" in a sexual manner in this, if that's not your jam, skip it.
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The suds of the dish soap coated her hands as she idly scrubbed the same glass she had been working on for the past few minutes. Her mind was elsewhere. Work, family matters, friendship troubles. Anywhere but here. It wasn’t until she felt an arm snake around her waist did she pull herself back from her wandering. 
“I think that glass is clean enough,” a gravelly voice murmured against her ear. 
The sound of his tone made her shiver. She knew it all too well. It didn’t matter what he was saying, the moment his voice shifted into that low, scruffy sound, she knew. He wanted her. Now. 
“Mm,” she gave a content sigh, rinsing the glass under the stream of steaming water. “I’m a bit distracted tonight, I think.” She could practically hear his smirk as his fingers splayed out over her stomach. He toyed with the white fabric of her sundress. Despite being late into the evening, they were going through a heat wave in the city. She couldn’t handle the thought of anything heavier than a light dress weighing her down. 
“I can bring you back down to earth,” his breath was hot against her neck. She could feel the sweat start to bead up down her spine the closer he pushed himself into her. 
Her head felt like she was spinning. He had that effect on her. Always had. 
“No, Peter. I’m trying to finish the dishes,” she tried to hold firm. “If they don’t get done now, they never will. I know us. There will be a mountain of unwashed dishes in one week if I don’t do them.” She felt his hand slide over her hips and under the hem of her dress. Her soapy hand slapped down over his wrist, “No!” 
His grip only tightened, nails digging into the fleshy bits of her thigh, “No?” He sounded amused. “Are you sure about that?” 
“I-” her face felt heated. “I’m busy…” The lack of confidence in her voice was evident. 
Peter’s hand only paused momentarily before continuing his descent, “Busy? Washing the same glass for the past ten minutes? You’re so, so busy, aren’t you? You poor thing. I’m working you to the bone over here. You sound like you need some motivation to get the job done.”
She sighed, a deep and satisfied sigh, as her head lulled to the side. It was an invitation for him to attack her sweaty neck with hot kisses. She held her breath as his hand approached her sex. It was only a matter of seconds before he realized she wasn’t wearing underwear. Then it would be over. Any attempt to finish her evening chores would fly out of the open window. Peter wouldn’t be able to resist himself and she had no desire to actually stop him. 
Despite her best efforts to squeeze her thighs together, he prevailed. His palm found its destination and he let out a soft inhale. 
“You naughty girl,” he rumbled in her ear. “Do you really think I wouldn’t notice you had nothing on under here? I knew it the second I walked into this apartment. What do you think I’ve been staring at all night?” 
She could feel herself growing hotter and wetter with each word that fell from his lips. His tone was nothing but pure raw lust. 
“Peter,” she whispered, stuttering over her own tongue. “I have to…to…the dishes…” 
“I never said you had to stop. Please, continue.” 
His hand slipped out from under her dress to instead tug the thin straps from her shoulders. He jerked the material down her arms to expose her breasts until the dress hung loosely around her hips. With a more leisurely caress, he ran his fingers lightly over the swell of her breast. 
“Well,” he ordered. “Keep working. I wouldn’t want to force you to stop.” 
Her pulse quickened. She loved it when he got like this. The more dominating and controlled he became, the more she craved him. She wanted him to puppet her to his will. She wanted him to take what was his without asking. 
“Yes, Peter.” 
She grabbed the wine glass she drank out of for dinner tonight but it slipped from her soapy grasp. The glass landed perfectly over a steak knife and shattered into pieces at the bottom of the sink. Before she even had time to react, Peter’s hand was tangled in her hair and yanked her head back.
“I didn’t say to break the dishes. I said to clean them,” he growled, the amused smirk evident despite her not being able to see his entire face. “Does someone need to be taught a lesson?” 
Heat flooded her core at the thought and she gave a dry swallow, “Yes, daddy.” The pet name fell out with ease. She knew exactly how to make him lose control. 
He responded with a low, dark chuckle. Her head was still snapped back, forced to stare up at the ceiling. She couldn’t see where his other hand was hiding until she felt a sharp pinch of her nipple. Hard. He twisted and tugged at it until she couldn’t hold back the whimper of pain. He wanted to hear her cry out but she held strong. He grabbed at the other one, giving it the same torture as her sister. She bit her lip to hold in any noise. 
“What’s the matter? You don’t want to scream for daddy tonight?” He tutted his tongue. “Are you trying to be a brave girl?” The growl in the back of his throat only turned her on more. “Don’t worry. I’ll have you screaming for mercy by the end. I always do.” 
Peter released both her sore nipple and her hair at the same time causing her to fall forward. She gripped the side of the counter for support. He took that as an opportunity to flip up the back of her dress to expose her bare, pantieless bottom. A palm press against her upper back, urging to bend over and arch her spine for him. Once she was in the position he deemed acceptable, his open hand came down with a deafening crack over her plump, expecting ass cheek. 
She yelped with the shock that followed the slap and couldn’t hold back the loud moan that tumbled out after the yell. She loved the sharp sting. It awakened every cell in her body. It made her feel alive. Again and again his palm ricocheted off her bottom, leaving a searing, delicious pain in its wake. 
When he paused to take in the state of her, bent over the counter, dress bunched around her waist, breasts swaying under her with each heaving breath, soap suds drying on her delicate skin, it was almost too much to handle. His fingers slid between her thighs to tease her sex. She was soaking wet. Her slick glistened on his coated fingers under the dull lights of their kitchen. A beautiful sight. One that would never get old. He probed deeper into the swollen, aching flesh, feeling her body crying out for him. 
She felt humiliated as she listened to pornographic sounds her sopping pussy made with each thrust of his hand. He pumped three fingers in and out of her without any resistance. The harder he abused her needy cunt, the more she cried out. She could feel flicks of wetness splattering down her thighs. It trickled down her legs. Her mouth hung open in a silent cry as that familiar warmth started to grow in the pit of her stomach. He was a master with his hands. A man who perfected his craft. He could bring her to a screaming orgasm with nothing but a finger if he desired. 
But, tonight, he chose a different method. 
Just before she could catch that high, Peter yanked his drenched fingers out of her. She whimpered in protest. Her head turned to beg for more but she saw that his cock was already clutched in his hand. He wasted no time guiding it into its new home. Her eyes slipped closed at the sensation of him filling her. The orgasm he had been building her towards with his hands reignited exactly where it left off as his cock plunged deeper. It was as if a strike of lightning shot straight up her spine only to explode somewhere in the depths of her skull. 
Her eyes shot open with a shocked yelp as Peter landed another hot slap against her quivering ass. She could feel her cheek jiggle from the force of the blow. That wonderful mix of pain and pleasure set off another explosion, this time down in her mons. She no longer had control over her body. Peter was holding her up. She couldn’t remember when he had moved her from bending over to arched tightly against his chest but he held her up with a strong arm locked around her neck. Her own arms dangled uselessly by her sides as he pounded into her. Her head tilted back to lull against her shoulder like a rag doll. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t make a sound. Only feel. 
The explosions kept going off. As long as Peter kept up his pace, her orgasm never ended. Each thrust of his heavy cock brought on another set of fireworks. It was almost too much for her to bear. There was nothing but the hot, persistent throbbing electrifying her skin. Peter wasn’t stopping. He was there. Pounding into her. Spreading her. Impaling her. Using her like the sex doll he craved. 
His breath was ragged, his grunts were low and deep, filling her ears with the sounds of his pleasure. He was loving this as much as she was. They were melding into one. There was no her without him. No him without her. Their bodies were entwined. Two beings moving together as one. 
She knew he was close. She did her best to fumble out the words he’d want to hear despite her lips not wanting to form anything but mindless screams. 
“F-fill me, daddy.” She mumbled, vaguely coherent. “I wan’ your cum. Fill me up. Make me yours. Take me…have me…cum inside me. I n-need you. All of you. Let me have you, daddy. Give it to me. I need it…please…please…” Tears pricked her eyes, the heightened emotions and feeling of ecstasy too much for her to handle. She wanted him. So badly that it physically hurt. 
And then the burst of warmth rocketed out of him. 
He filled her sweet pussy with the remnants of himself and she gladly accepted it all. 
Her body was being pushed back against the counter as Peter nearly collapsed on top of her with a loud, long groan. He emptied himself into her depths with shivering, jerking movements. The edge of the counter cut into her soft stomach but she didn’t care. She bore Peter’s weight, letting him finish how he needed to, until he managed to stumble back, sliding out of her, and wrapping an arm around her waist. He pulled her onto the nearest kitchen chair, cradling her in his lap. They were both dripping in sweat. Her thighs were slick with a mixture of both of their fluids. She could only give quiet, little moans with her head resting against his shoulder. Every so often another shot of lingering electricity would strike through her and she’d give an erratic shake of delayed pleasure. 
Peter’s chest rose and fell with his labored breaths. He stroked lightly down her spine and trailed patterns over her skin with the calloused pads of his fingers. They stayed like that for some time, breathing each other in, and soaking in the essence of their love. 
It was Peter who eventually spoke first. She would have been perfectly content to sit, cuddled, in silence until the morning. 
His voice was raspy and weak, “I promise I’ll do the dishes in the morning. Let’s clean you up and I’ll bring you to bed.” He placed a gentle kiss on her jaw and nipped at her earlobe.
“It’s too early to sleep,” she managed to squeak out. 
“I never said anything about sleeping. That was just round one.”
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fella-lovin-fella · 5 months
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why can't i fucking do anything ← guy with Hard Time Doing Things Disorder
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peculiary · 1 year
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Saga #15
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poptartbunny · 1 year
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lunardaydreamz714 · 1 year
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very disappointed to learn that most of adulthood is just cleaning things youre going to use/dirty again in five minutes, i cry
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atak-achrativ · 1 year
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Completely optional but. Can you draw me a creecher who is doing the dishes with the caption "sulking"
Or sulking creecher in any other mundane situation you want. the idea didn't leave my head since Wednesday
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Every day the dishes gather. The dishes gather and he is crushed by the sight of the dishes. When will the dish God be satisfied? He uses a reasonable amount of bowls, but they gather. The plates, glasses, spoons, forks, pans, jars. They jeer in filth and now he has to clean it.
When will it be over? Haven't he done enough? He did what he supposed to. It's not fair
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kunizk · 2 years
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in love with myself at this point. fit matching the theme ong? 🤨. eid mubarak to everyone!!
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recents · 4 months
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idk i think what is interesting about astarion to me is the fact that you have a guy who started out an asshole (normal type) and then spent two hundred years in a very carefully and specifically crafted (by the writers of the game) Become A Terrible Person Or Die nexus. like it wasn’t just a Torment Nexus, he wasn’t just in hell, i feel like this is very important not to forget, he was in hell but it was specifically a hell designed to, over time, kill the empathy of anyone trapped in it, kill their brain’s ability to prioritize other peoples’ survival, to numb one’s conscience.
and then he gets yanked directly out of that nexus and despite that the fact that he spent, again, two hundred years in a situation that was sort of a rock tumbler for the human soul, there’s still a pebble left in there. and it’s a pebble that can be grown if placed in the right environment and provided with a support network.
so i think it becomes interesting because it really does i think force you to start thinking about the limits of free will even on as basic a level as the human personality. i think the fact that he becomes such a different character based on player choice, that his end morality is so hugely dependent on player choice, is uhhh. a big part of what the devs were going for probably.
it makes a lot of people really uncomfortable to acknowledge some bad people would be good people if literally nothing changed except they had a good support network and different circumstances. especially because it means the opposite is also true. which is even more uncomfortable.
you know that part in the beginning of fellowship of the ring where gandalf is talking about how gollum is ultimately only like that because of the ring and gandalf thinks his story is sad? astarion is kinda like if they sexualized gollum.
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pangur-and-grim · 1 month
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Pangur fanart is always so fun to receive, but I do giggle sometimes at the yassification
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ma-ke-alanui · 1 month
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8578: 06/08/2018 yokohama
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nesbiter · 7 months
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I'm loving how Zeff put Luffy's wanted poster underneath 'Employee of the Month'.
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My favorite piece of tumblr linguistics to ever come out of this site is “the horrors”. It’s delightfully evocative and also gives absolutely no information about what I’m talking about. “Sorry I can’t go out today I’m facing the horrors” am I talking about the encroaching dread and existential despair of our dystopian world? am I talking about the fact that I have to wash dishes? No one knows. It’s all horrors.
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nyukyujs · 3 months
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it's 1am n i have school itm (im not going to sleep).
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internetdruid · 2 months
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Shrimpin' ain't easy
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ispyspookymansion · 1 year
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wtf gay little ghosthunters
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png-magician · 6 months
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