hashtag slimefucker central || 8teen || Him / Her || no but seriously I'm a freak about Charlie watch out || I occasionally post what i write and I'm happy to take requests!!
Based loosely on Charlie starting the Peak update stream with a bunch of sex jokes
he's totally into edging I dont care
Charlie slimecicle x you
CW: NSFW below the cut, afab reader, no use of pronouns (for the reader), no use of y/n, slight D/S (service top charlie), PIV sex, oral sex, body worship, orgasm denial, overstimulation, tiny bit of dacryphilia
2,217 words
You’re both distracted when it starts. Shoes kicked off and discarded by the door, the apartment filled with the low murmur of whatever show Charlie left playing in the living room. He's in the kitchen getting water, soft black sweatpants hanging low on his hips when you move behind him to rest your forehead between his shoulder blades. His skin is warm through his shirt.
He goes still for a second, before relaxing back into your touch.
“Hey,” he speaks, his voice low. “You good?”
Your hands slide around his waist, nails gently scraping his sides. You press a slow kiss to the side of his neck, then another, and feel the way his breathing changes.
“Yeah,” you mumble against his skin. “Just want you.”
He sets the glass onto the counter, forgetting it as he turns in the circle of your arms. There’s a flush already creeping up his neck, leading your eyes to that small shy smile that always undoes you a little.
“Yeah?” His voice has gone softer. “How do you want me?”
You tilt your head up and kiss him. It's unhurried, slow and deep enough that he makes a quiet sound into your mouth. His hands settle lightly at your waist, holding you close, waiting. When you pull back he’s looking at you like you're all that he'll ever want and need.
You spoke softly but firmly, "Come on."
He reaches out, chasing your warmth down the hallway without needing to be told twice. In the bedroom you push the door most of the way shut and turn to him, placing your hands on his chest and crowding him until the backs of his legs bump the mattress. You reach around his neck, gripping the collar on the back of his shirt before you pull it over his head in one smooth motion. Your palms map his chest, his stomach, the line of his hips above the sweats. He shivers when your thumbs dip under the waistband, brushing over the soft hair.
“Can I..” he starts, pausing to swallow. He's so easy for you. “Can I touch you?”
“Mhm.”
His hands find your sides again, then slide up under your shirt, worshipful and a little greedy. You strip each other without rushing; his sweats, your clothes, until you’re both bare and he’s sitting on the edge of the bed with you standing between his knees. He’s already hard.
You tip his chin up and kiss him deeply, slowly.
“Lie back for me?”
He listens without question, scooting up the mattress without his eyes ever leaving yours. You climb over him, straddle his thighs, and sit there a moment with your hands braced just below his chest. His heart is racing beneath your palms.
You roll your hips once so his cock slides against you, wetting it with your own arousal, and the sound he makes is soft and wrecked. You keep the friction light until his fingers tighten on your hips and he breathes, “Please. I want to taste you.”
The desperation in his voice is music to your ears. You shift up the bed, knees on either side of his head, and lower yourself to his mouth.
Charlie groans like he's been given a miracle. His tongue is careful and slow at first, becoming greedier when you sigh and thread your fingers through his soft hair. He doesn’t rush. He licks into you like he could stay there all night, fingers spread wide on your thighs, holding you steady while you rock against him in small, lazy rolls.
You settle your weight more fully, slightly worried about smothering Charlie until his moan vibrates through you, clearly exactly where he wants to be. His grip tightens on your thighs like he’s pacing himself, and pulling you closer if anything. You roll your hips slow and deliberate, grinding down onto his tongue, and he opens easily for you; Adoring and devoted, licking deeper every time you press closer.
“That’s it,” you murmur, voice low as you focused on the building pleasure. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. His nose brushes your clit when you shift forward, the wet sound of him working you open flooding your ears. You press a little harder, thighs shivering around his head, and he notices. His tongue flattens against your clit before dipping into you, keeping a steady pace until your breath starts to hitch and your fingers pull his hair.
You stay there, savoring the feeling of his lips on you. Riding his mouth in increasingly more hurried circles while the heat builds between your trembling thighs.
Charlie’s breathing hard through his nose, cock leaking against his stomach, but his focus is completely on you. His eyes are half-lidded when you glance down, completely gone in the taste of you.
Your thighs start to tremble. You grind down firmer, chasing your pleasure, and he groans into you with encouragement. The first flutter hits and you don’t pull away. You settle your weight, roll through it, and let the orgasm wash over you. It's slow and warm while his tongue keeps working you through every pulse. Your free hand braces on the headboard; a broken little sound leaving you as you cum on his mouth, your hips stuttering, soaking his chin.
Charlie doesn’t stop until you do. His lips are wet and pink, eyes dazed when you finally climb off him. His chest is heaving, cock painfully hard against his stomach. You shift down his body and kiss the taste of yourself from his mouth until he’s making soft needy sounds against your lips.
“Want you inside me,” you whisper between kisses. “Slow.”
He nods, a faraway look in his eyes. You push him gently into the pillows and sink down onto him in one long glide. Charlie’s head falls back; a breathless little “fuck” leaves him. His hands fly to your waist and stay there, not steering, just holding on.
You ride him unhurried. Deep rolls of your hips, the kind that make him feel every inch. Every time he starts to thrust up you still completely, hands bracing him down, until he exhales and goes pliant again beneath you.
“Easy,” you say, brushing his hair from his forehead. “I’ve got you.”
“I- I'm trying,” He breathes a laugh. “You’re just so— God, you feel so good.”
You lean down, foreheads touching, and roll your hips in a mean little circle that brings a whine from his throat. His thighs tense under you, trembling slightly with effort.
“Already?” you ask, voice soft. You lift until he’s barely inside, wait for the shake in his breath to settle, then sink down again painfully slowly.
“I.. yeah. Sorry.” He swallows, a slight whimper in his tone. “I’ll be good. I can wait.”
“I know you can.” You lean down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “We’re going to go nice and slow.”
You build him up carefully after that. Long, dragging strokes that make his eyes flutter. A faster grind when you want to hear that pathetic little noise in his throat. Then nothing, seated flush on him, unmoving, while he pants and clutches your hips and tries not to rut up into you. He's desperate, but you only start moving again once his grip loosens and he nods, promising that he'll be good for you.
The second time he gets close it’s faster. His stomach tightens, your name leaving his mouth in hushed whines.
“Please, please I'm—”
You rise off him completely. His cock falls wet against his stomach, shiny and flushed, and the sound he makes is wrecked. You wrap your hand loosely around the base and squeeze slightly, thumb stroking the underside until the urgency eases off and he’s trembling for a different reason.
“Breathe,” you murmur. “Not yet.”
“Okay. Okay.” He’s nodding too fast, stuttering, blue eyes wet at the corners. “Fuck. Please, can I have you again?”
Only once he steadies do you line him back up and slowly sink down. Riding him in lazy rolls of your hips that keep him begging without giving him a rhythm he can chase. Every time his hips stutter up you stop, palm flat on his chest, and wait. He learns, and relaxes beneath you. He takes only what you let him have, even when his legs are shaking hard enough to make the bed tremble with him.
“You’re doing so well,” you tell him, and watch the praise land. His whole face goes soft and completely wrecked the second it does. “My good boy. Taking it so well.”
“I want to be.” His hands flex on your waist, kneading your soft flesh. “I want to be good for you. Please, I just—”
You cut him off by picking up the pace. Faster rolls, the wet sound of it loud between you, his cock dragging over your soft inner walls until you’re both breathing hard. He lasts longer this time before the warning hits; desperation laced in the way he whines, “Close, I-I’m so close, I can’t—”
A strangled noise leaves him as you lift yourself off of him again. You stroke him through it, slow and mean, stopping the second his back starts to arch into your touch. A bead of precum slides down to your fingers. You bring it to his mouth; he licks it off without you prompting him, eyes locked on yours, fucked out, obedient, and so hard it looks like it hurts.
“How many is that?” you softly ask.
He has to focus to think. “Three. I think.. yeah, three.”
“Can you give me more?”
A broken little laugh. “Yeah. God. Yes. Anything for you.”
You take his word for it, continuing that grueling routine. Sink down, get him right on the edge, and pull it away. His begging stops being words after a while, just pathetic sounds, your name, whimpering, pleading. Sweat on his forehead. His hands nowhere except where you’ve left them, gripping your hips like a lifeline. Every time you deny him you kiss and stroke him through it, soft and slow, until the sharp edge dulls and he can take you again.
By the fifth time his whole body is trembling under you. Tears leaving streaks down the sides of his face. He’s beautiful like this, completely ruined but still trying so hard to be patient.
“One more,” you promise against his lips. “Just one more and then you can cum. Can you do that for me?"
“Yes, yes, fuck, yes—” His words come out too fast, tripping over his own tongue.
You ride him properly then. Deep and steady, the kind of consistent rhythm that would have finished him in seconds at the start. A raw sob tears from his throat, and he somehow keeps still under you, thighs rigid with the effort. You feel every shiver, every desperate pulse he’s refusing to let get the best of him.
“That’s it. That’s it. You’re so perfect. Just a little more.”
You tease a few agonizing seconds longer, and when you finally want it you sink all the way down and grind your hips against him.
“Okay. Fuck me properly now. Cum whenever you need to.”
Permission undoes him like a branch snapping in half. Charlie drives up into you with a broken cry, his grip firm but still careful, chasing the rhythm he wants like he’s starving for it. You meet every thrust, sensitive from riding him, and when you cum again it’s with your face buried in his neck, squeezing around him until he follows; Spilling deep into you with a helpless moan that sounds like relief, hips stuttering through wave after wave like his body doesn’t know how to stop moving now that it’s allowed to. He holds you close, as if you might float away if he doesn't.
You don’t stop moving immediately. You keep rolling through the aftershocks, easing him down from his high, until he’s twitching under you and whining your name.
So you give him just that. Soft rolls of your hips that pull another weaker orgasm out of him while he clings to you and breathes your name like a prayer. Only when he’s properly spent and trembling do you finally climb off of him. The mess on his stomach makes something warm settle in your chest. You smear it absently with your fingers, then lie down along his side and pull him in.
Charlie tucks his face against your throat immediately. His arm hooks around your waist, desperate to keep you close.
“Still with me?”
“Yeah.” His voice is low and raspy. “That was… I'm, uh.. yeah.”
You stroke his sweat dampened hair and press a kiss to his head.
“You were so good for me,” you praise against his skin.
He kisses your neck and presses closer, already getting hard again against your thigh. You smile into his hair.
“Greedy,” you say, affection lacing your words. “We’ll see about going again when you can string a full sentence together.”
Charlie huffs a quiet laugh against your skin.
“Yes, please,” he manages, and lets you hold him while his heart rate settles, exactly where he wants to be.
Peter climbs through your window one night, but this time he’s in a worse state than you’re prepared for
A gentle tap against your window tears you away from the book in your hands. You'd been so absorbed in what you were reading you hadn't noticed the clock turning 3am, but the dark sky outside your window and the silent street below it all work together to tell you that you should've been asleep hours ago. You rise off your bed and tread towards your window, the cold floorboards sending a chill up your spine. You push open the window and your friend Peter climbs through, slumping onto the floor with a small grunt.
You're used to him arriving like this in the dead of night by now. Sometimes he needs a rest before he travels back home, others he just needs company and a reassuring smile. Tonight feels different though. He's barely spoken since you let him in and his breathing is ragged, making his chest heave. You switch on your bedside lamp and gently lower yourself to the floor to sit next to him.
The light illuminates his face, and the gravity of the situation hits you immediately.
Blood trickles from his hairline down the side of his face, leaving a trail that drips all the way into the neck of his suit. His lip is cut, and both cheeks are littered with bruises.
Your eyes take their way down his body, checking for further injuries. One of his web shooters is smashed, and there's a slash on his ribs that you almost don't spot, because the entire area is covered with blood, blending it in with the red of his suit.
"Peter, what happened?" You ask, voice trembling with worry.
He goes to reply, but attempts to move as he does, which replaces any words he was about to say with a whimper, his eyes screwing up in pain.
"Okay okay, just-just hold on one second I'll be right back" you say, scrambling to your feet.
You dart to your bathroom, grabbing your first aid kit. You try to keep the thing well stocked in case of Peters visits, but you're not sure anything in there is going to be appropriate for the level of injuries he's shown up with this time.
You race back, almost slipping on the wooden floor, and immediately start to try and tend to the wound on his side.
Peter watches you, wincing in pain as you wipe away layers of blood, but it just keeps pouring.
"I think you need to go to the hospital Peter" you bite your lip.
He shakes his head.
You look at him sternly, but he's closed his eyes, now oblivious to your disapproval. You try again to wipe away the blood, but you make no progress, so you sit next to him and place as much pressure as you can muster on it instead. The blood soaks through to the cloth and onto your hand almost immediately, coating your fingers. You try not to panic, taking deep breaths as Peter pants next to you, but your brain is spiralling.
These injuries are really bad. Spider healing or not, he's lost way too much blood. His face is practically grey, and amongst the dirt, blood and bruises you can see the sweat dotting his forehead. He seems pretty adamant about not going to the hospital, so all you can do is your best to try and tend to him and keep him alive.
You take his hand in yours and place it on top of the cloth on his side. "Press down here for me so I can have a look at your head"
He does as you ask, but with his brain not fully focused he puts too much force behind his press, making himself yelp in pain. You brush your hand through his hair reassuringly, trying to soothe him from the unimaginable amount of pain he must be in, before you try and find the source of the blood trickling down his face.
The cut on his head isn't as bad as you're expecting. You clean it with antiseptic, which stings and makes his eyes water, and then wipe away the remaining blood on his face.
When you pull away from him, you notice his eyes are staring to droop.
"Pete? You still with me?" You ask urgently.
"Y-yeah I'm good, just...so tired" he responds, voice no more than a whisper.
You take over from him putting pressure on his side. To your relief, the bleeding seems to have slowed significantly. You can finally breathe for the first time since he showed up, safe in the knowledge that he's not imminently about to bleed out on your bedroom floor.
The feeling of his head dropping onto your shoulder snaps you back to attention.
"Come on, you need to sleep" you say, taking his hand and helping him to stand up, guiding him toward your bed.
You cover him up with several blankets and do your best to get him comfortable, and then head towards your door to go and set yourself up on the sofa.
"I'll be right next door, if you need anything at all come and get me, or shout if you can't get up, okay?"
No answer.
"Peter? Did you he-"
"Would you stay with me?" His voice croaks out quietly from the bundle of blankets.
"...of course I can" you answer, walking back and shuffling onto the bed next to him.
His head moves to rest on your chest almost immediately. You stroke his hair, humming gently. Peter has always loved it when you hummed or sang around him, he found it relaxing, so you're hoping it will soothe him a little and help him sleep.
You sit like this for about 2 hours, just listening to Pete's slow breathing as you stroke his hair, letting his body heal him as he sleeps. You'd love to stay awake all night to keep watch over him and make sure his condition doesn't deteriorate further, but the warmth of his body is unwilling lulling you to sleep. Your eyes droop, and despite your best efforts to keep them open, you end up fast asleep, nestled on top of your sheets with Peters head still resting on your chest.
-
You don't wake up until midday. When you do, you find your arms surprisingly empty. Panic rises in your chest, fearing Peter has collapsed somewhere, but when your head turns the side to search for him, you see your window propped open and a small bunch of flowers sat on your bedside table.
On top of them is a note that reads "For Y/N, the best nurse a guy could ask for, love PP/SM".
You smile as you take the flowers into your hand, leaving the note on the table. They're pastel tulips with a few sprigs of baby's breath surrounding them. Your favourite. Peters ability to move around silently is both a blessing and a curse, you think, because it lets you wake up to sweet things like this, but part of you also wishes he'd of stayed till you woke up.
As you go to fill a vase with some water, your mind buzzes over the last line of the note. You tell Peter you love him all the time, purely platonically, but he rarely says it back, and something about this feels different. You swipe open your phone and send him a message.
Message to Peter 🕸️: They're beautiful Pete, thank you, love you too!
He messages back almost instantly, as if he'd been holding his phone waiting for you.
Message from Peter 🕸️: No, thank you! And I really mean it
You ponder his message for a moment. What does he mean, he really meant it? He really means he's thankful, or he really means he loves you? You contemplate interrogating him, but decide against it. Peter is rarely so forthcoming with his feelings, tending to stumble over his words whenever they feel too much, so you're just grateful for what you have. Besides, there's no doubt he'll be swinging through your window again soon, maybe then you can get to the bottom of it all.
hey ur new here, just a thing we do NOT mix maintags with freak tags!!! just use señor babygirl and slimefucker central, normal Slimecicle fans tend to not like seeing simp stuff on the main tags, and CCs like to scroll their tags, so PLEASE don’t mix them!! just wanted to let you know because sometimes people get harassed and i don’t want people getting mean with you
hey ur new here, just a thing we do NOT mix maintags with freak tags!!! just use señor babygirl and slimefucker central, normal Slimecicle fans tend to not like seeing simp stuff on the main tags, and CCs like to scroll their tags, so PLEASE don’t mix them!! just wanted to let you know because sometimes people get harassed and i don’t want people getting mean with you
I do infact write oneshots and fics but I don't show anyone what I writeee... if I did requests on here (prob just Charlie tbh) is that something you guys would likeeeee orrr 👀👀👀
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