I wanna make it clear that if I ever like a fic and don't reblog it, it's not because I read it and didn't interact. it's because I was saving it for later and literally never had time to read it.
Tf141 who plays strip poker but they all gang up on you until you’re fully naked and the worst anyone else has gotten is a lost sock or shoe.
“No fair!”
“Ain’t our fault youre shit at poker. Now you know the rules.”
Gaz takes you first, biting his lip to hold back the sly grin he has as he sinks you down on his cock. “So pretty perched on a cock.”
His hands gently guide you back and forth, musing nothing but praises. “I’m almost there, baby. I know you want it. Can you feel you wanting it.”
Eventually he holds you still, rutting up into you while his thumb draws soothing circles on your hip. The others watch intensely before he slams you down, keeping your hips pressed firmly against him as he pours his release inside.
Gaz combs your hair out of your face, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead before he peels you off. But not before he gives your cunt a gentle grope with the palm of his hand. “Thanks love.”
He passes you off to soap who’s been bouncing in his seat since you were in your undergarments. He’s quick to get you bent over the table before sinking his dick in with a deep groan.
He’s meaner than Gaz, insisting that you squirt for him before he lets you go despite you cumming multiple times. “I can’t, Johnny! Icanticanticant,” you sob, pussy puffy and swollen.
Soaps arm slinks down between your legs before his fingers repeatedly swipe across your poor clit. He has no aim, but it gets the job done and your vision nearly goes black as you’re leaking onto the edge of the table.
Soap grins victoriously. “So ye can do it. Fuckin’ liar you are.”
Then there’s ghost. He’s not trying to be an ass about it. It’s just that he’s so damn big that it’s bound to hurt no matter how many times Gaz and Soap have cum inside you.
He lifts you up from the underside of your knees, spreading you wide open before nudging inch by inch inside. “Nice view, LT.”
“Wish it were you, aye Johnny?”
Soap smirks. “Who? You or her?”
The conversation ends there, ghost too enthralled by the way his dick pumps out cum with every thrust. The position makes it perfect to see the tip of his dick bulging as he brings you down to the hilt.
“Fuck,” you pant, barely audible over those heavenly wails you let out.
“I know, doll. That’s what I’m doin’.” You don’t even have it in you to tell him to piss off and that’s exactly how he likes you.
Last is price, who lays you gently down on the table with a hand resting on each thigh. There’s no resistance as he slips his dick inside your warm and sloppy hole.
Immediately you shudder from oversensitivity, hands pawing at his abdomen to push him back but there’s no strength behind it.
He’s gentle, but the experience is there when he’s grinding up his dick to all the right places.
Two of his fingers scoop up the leaking cum (probably a mix of all three) before drawing delicate figure 8’s across your abused clit.
You squeak, legs tensing as sparks fill your vision. “There she is, nice and fuckin’ tight.”
And once he knows he has you teetering on that edge, he’s pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow.
The table shakes under the intensity and it proves to be worth it when you’re mumbling gibberish in hysterics.
Price finally pulls out, patting your pussy twice as a reward. “Good girl.” And you don’t know if he’s talking to you or your cunt.
You feel a hand cup your cheek but your vision is blurry and every voice sounds as if you’re underwater. “Ya look like you’re seeing stars, lassie.”
“I’m never playing poker again.”
Your comment earns a few chuckles from the group. “Oh don’t be like that. You almost almost had us!”
“Kyle’s right. You’re improving fast. You’re bound to win the next one, soldier.”
It’s a lie. Price knows it. The group knows it. You know it. But it doesn’t stop you from playing the next week.
Tf141 who plays strip poker but they all gang up on you until you’re fully naked and the worst anyone else has gotten is a lost sock or shoe.
“No fair!”
“Ain’t our fault youre shit at poker. Now you know the rules.”
Gaz takes you first, biting his lip to hold back the sly grin he has as he sinks you down on his cock. “So pretty perched on a cock.”
His hands gently guide you back and forth, musing nothing but praises. “I’m almost there, baby. I know you want it. Can you feel you wanting it.”
Eventually he holds you still, rutting up into you while his thumb draws soothing circles on your hip. The others watch intensely before he slams you down, keeping your hips pressed firmly against him as he pours his release inside.
Gaz combs your hair out of your face, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead before he peels you off. But not before he gives your cunt a gentle grope with the palm of his hand. “Thanks love.”
He passes you off to soap who’s been bouncing in his seat since you were in your undergarments. He’s quick to get you bent over the table before sinking his dick in with a deep groan.
He’s meaner than Gaz, insisting that you squirt for him before he lets you go despite you cumming multiple times. “I can’t, Johnny! Icanticanticant,” you sob, pussy puffy and swollen.
Soaps arm slinks down between your legs before his fingers repeatedly swipe across your poor clit. He has no aim, but it gets the job done and your vision nearly goes black as you’re leaking onto the edge of the table.
Soap grins victoriously. “So ye can do it. Fuckin’ liar you are.”
Then there’s ghost. He’s not trying to be an ass about it. It’s just that he’s so damn big that it’s bound to hurt no matter how many times Gaz and Soap have cum inside you.
He lifts you up from the underside of your knees, spreading you wide open before nudging inch by inch inside. “Nice view, LT.”
“Wish it were you, aye Johnny?”
Soap smirks. “Who? You or her?”
The conversation ends there, ghost too enthralled by the way his dick pumps out cum with every thrust. The position makes it perfect to see the tip of his dick bulging as he brings you down to the hilt.
“Fuck,” you pant, barely audible over those heavenly wails you let out.
“I know, doll. That’s what I’m doin’.” You don’t even have it in you to tell him to piss off and that’s exactly how he likes you.
Last is price, who lays you gently down on the table with a hand resting on each thigh. There’s no resistance as he slips his dick inside your warm and sloppy hole.
Immediately you shudder from oversensitivity, hands pawing at his abdomen to push him back but there’s no strength behind it.
He’s gentle, but the experience is there when he’s grinding up his dick to all the right places.
Two of his fingers scoop up the leaking cum (probably a mix of all three) before drawing delicate figure 8’s across your abused clit.
You squeak, legs tensing as sparks fill your vision. “There she is, nice and fuckin’ tight.”
And once he knows he has you teetering on that edge, he’s pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow.
The table shakes under the intensity and it proves to be worth it when you’re mumbling gibberish in hysterics.
Price finally pulls out, patting your pussy twice as a reward. “Good girl.” And you don’t know if he’s talking to you or your cunt.
You feel a hand cup your cheek but your vision is blurry and every voice sounds as if you’re underwater. “Ya look like you’re seeing stars, lassie.”
“I’m never playing poker again.”
Your comment earns a few chuckles from the group. “Oh don’t be like that. You almost almost had us!”
“Kyle’s right. You’re improving fast. You’re bound to win the next one, soldier.”
It’s a lie. Price knows it. The group knows it. You know it. But it doesn’t stop you from playing the next week.
Portal pussy with tf141 but it’s your job to figure out who has your pussy for the day.
You’re shaking and sweating, holding the base of the chair so tightly that your knuckles turn white. The circular sensation against your clit has been non stop and your brain is about to turn to mush because of it.
“You okay, love? You look tense.” You glare at price to which he gives you a knowing smirk. “Not too much now. I’m still your captain. Could send you to train the recruits if I wanted to.” There’s an intentional pause- as if to leave the mind to imagine. “although I doubt you’ll be able to demonstrate much in this state.”
You lift your hips off the chair in hopes to alleviate some of the friction but to no avail. A string of curses leaves your lips. “Fuck…I’m gonna cum.”
“Easy now.” Ghost chimes in. “Still in a briefing. Keep it professional, kid.”
“You could just take a guess- put an end to it.” Kyle so kindly suggests. There’s a few menacing chuckles in response. “Remember your forfeit though.”
And just like that- the sensation stops. It’s both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, you no longer have to climax in front of your team at a mission briefing, while on the other, your thighs are now rubbing against one another for any amount of friction that could just give you that relief you need.
Later in the day, Soap finds you curled up on a couch, clutching your lower abdomen and eyes just a little bit glazed over. “You look like shite.”
And you felt like it. “One of you fuckers has been edging me all day,” you mumble, pressing your legs so tightly together as if that would do you any good.
“At least you know it’s not me, you know I like to give ya what you want.”
You shoot him a glare- because Soap will let you cum. The problem is, that’s all he does. You’re climaxing at least once an hour when he has your pussy, and he’s not shy to experimenting.
He’ll grind the toy against the corner of his desk, he’ll hold it under running water, he’ll even go so far as to tie it to a vibrator as he’s sleeping just to make sure you’re left satisfied.
And the day will always end the same- soap locked inside his room while you’re banging for him with cute glistening tears, begging and sobbing for him to stop which just isn’t enough for him until you’re sitting in a puddle of your own arousal outside his door.
“C’mon, lass. Just take a guess.” He steps closer, lifting your chin with a finger. His eyes glimmer with excitement when he sees the way you’re practically looking through him and not at him. “You get it right, you get your cute cunnie back. And if you get it wrong…” he leans closer to your ear, “I’ll take ya first and you know I’m good at making ya cum.”
The offer is tempting, and you almost mutter a name in his advice but suddenly you gasp when you feel a low vibration make contact with your sore clit.
You hunch over, gripping the back of the couch. “What’s going on?” You don’t even have the strength to look up but from voice alone, you know it’s Gaz.
“Looks like someone’s having fun.”
Gaz’s eyes trace from a smug soap to a pitiful you. “What d’they got going on?”
Your voice strains as you try to speak. “V-vibe.”
Gaz nods in understanding. “Sounds like ghost or price. Me? I’m a traditional man.”
Soap snorts. “Oh, we know.”
Gaz, cursed at him, rolling his eyes with no real heat behind it. But soap was right. Gaz always talking about how he wants to meet the love of his life “naturally” and properly court her, have a romantic wedding, have two kids (one boy, one girl), basically he was traditional in every sense.
This includes in the bedroom where he doesn’t believe in the need for toys. Instead, he’ll plunge his fingers in your pussy till it’s sopping and crying, and then he’ll drink it all up with the tip of his nose pushing against the hood of you clit- all to do it over and over and over again.
The pair continue to argue but you drown out their voices as you feel that sinking feeling deep in your gut again. The vibrations are so perfectly pressed against your clit that it has you seeing stars.
It has to be price, right? The fingers from earlier were rough with experience but the movements themselves were patient and experienced. They move in perfect circles up and down your folds, playing with them like pages on a book before teasingly flicking against your clit.
Or is it ghost? It’s more likely for ghost to be using a vibrator than price. He loves his toys, has a whole fancy collection that are “just for testin’” he says. But usually ghost is a little rougher, isn’t he? So maybe it’s-
The thought is cut off when you feel a blunt, large head of a vibrator forcefully being pushed against your opening. Your eyes widen, and whoever is toying with you isn’t in the room but you instinctively scream anyways which draws the attention of both Gaz and soap. “waitwaitwaitwait- It won’t fit!”
God- fuck- it had to be him. It had to be. Oh shit, just say a name. Or is it price? No- he wouldn’t. Or? Fuck- you could literally count down the seconds as the head stretches you wider and wider and - “Ghost! Stop it!”
And just like that…it stops. And for a moment, it feels like time stops.
“Oh? Looks like we have a name.”
You’re panting for dear life, vision blurry as you curl up in the couch, oblivious to the rest of the team flooding in the room.
Price kneels by your side, placing a warm hand on your forehead and using his thumb to brush away the hair that sticks to your forehead.
Once you catch your breath, you roll over slowly. Your vision is a blur, but it gradually comes to focus and you recognize price’s look of concern with the rest of them peering over his shoulder.
“Did I get it right?”
The men pause, none of them giving it away, until you notice a twitch of Price’s mustache followed my an upward turn of a crooked smile. “Oh, fuck.”
A deep and amused laugh confirms what you already know and Soap is already taking off his belt, “I’m going first, lads.”
“Why do you go first? Price did all of the work.” Gaz retorts, finger twitching in retaliation.
“Called dibs. Didn’t I, lassie?”
Gaz lets out a sputter of disbelief. “Oi, You can’t just call dibs on something like that!”
“Her mouth is still open if you want it.” Soap is already at your legs, grabbing them by the ankles and pulling them apart.
Gaz’s jaw clenches in annoyance…or is it jealousy? He looks at Price, who gives him a fatherly shrug. There’s a moment of hesitation before he’s also undoing his belt, mumbling underneath his breath. “Bloody dibs…an idiot really.”
streamer!jo mid-sentence, leaning back in his chair, headset slightly crooked, the soft click of the door barely registers over the sound of his stream when you walk in. he stops, just for a second. his eyes flick over you. your tight, soft pajamas, the way they hug you just right, the faint scent that follows you in. his whole expression shifts into something quieter.
“hey,” you hum softly, walking over like it’s nothing.
the chat explodes and he doesn’t even glance at it.
voidking99: BROOOOO WHO IS THAT
satorusimp420: HE GOT A GIRL??????
angelmilk: she’s so pretty what 😭
gojosleft_toe3: WHY IS SHE IN HIS LAP LIKE THAT IM SICK
“oh my fuck,” he says instantly, voice lower now, already reaching for you.
you don’t question it—you never do. you just step between his legs and sit in his lap like it’s your spot, because it is. his arms wrap around you immediately, pulling you close, one hand settling at your waist, the other resting along your thigh.
“you look so gooooood,” he murmurs, nuzzling lightly into your shoulder for a second before straightening again, like he just remembered he’s live.
his hand doesn’t move though. it drifts. slowly. absentmindedly. down your thigh, fingers brushing soft circles like he’s not even thinking about it. then back up, resting at your waist again.
the twitch chat is going insane.
you notice quickly
you’re already leaning forward slightly, eyes scanning the stream, curious. “what are they saying?”
“nothing important,” he mutters quickly, tightening his hold on you just a little.
too late.
you squint, reading out loud, confused, “I usually skip this part…?” your face still contempt, you tilt your head, genuinely puzzled. “what does that mean?” and then you shift. just a little. trying to get closer to the screen. but it makes you press back into him.
torus breath catches, just barely but enough.
you’re still focused on the chat, completely oblivious, squirming slightly again to get comfortable. “wait, there’s more—”
his arm tightens around your waist. not rough, just firm.
grounding.
his other hand stills on your thigh, fingers pressing in just a little like he’s trying to anchor himself. “hey,” he says suddenly, sharper now—directed at the screen.
the chat floods faster.
softgirlcult: she’s literally clueless this is insane
domainexpansionTHIS: “i usually skip this part” LMAOOOOOO
gojoswifeREAL: GIRL DONT READ THAT OUT LOUD
blueeyeaddickt: HE TENSED UP DID YALL SEE THAT
he exhales through his nose, jaw tightening slightly before he leans forward, voice dropping into something more commanding.
“alright, that’s enough,” he says, tone lazy. “don’t read that stuff,” he murmurs, voice softer now.
you blink, looking back at him. “I was just asking—”
“don’t worry about them,” he murmurs, softer now, eyes locked on yours. way too focused, way too intense. his arms tighten around you again, pulling you flush against him, chin resting lightly on your shoulder as he leans back into his chair.
chat? forgotten.
game? paused.
and satoru? completely, helplessly distracted by you.
megumislostdad: stream is over guys pack it up
sukunaIRL: move chat i’m watching this
KING.naoyazenin: embarrassing. stand up bro
LimitlessGojo banned KING.naoyazenin
no i dont ride my horse into battle what the hell is wrong with you she could get hurt. she drops me off and then she stands on the sidelines with a gun
in an alternate universe eddie and chrissy are reverse steve and robin where she has a crush on him but he’s gay and they become besties and also she is a repressed bisexual
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ . ݁ 18+ | satoru recording himself riding a dildo because he misses you and your strap </3
“nngh-- fuck, mommy… miss you so much,” satoru whimpers into the empty room, lowering his hips down onto the thick toy suctioned to the floor, his thighs trembling and knees slipping along the floorboards.
his cock hangs heavy between his thighs, untouched, leaking so profusely that it drips onto the floor below in a small puddle, the tip so red it almost looks like it hurts. and his back is arched so beautifully, head tipped back, white hair tickling between his shoulder blades as he calls your name so desperately, his voice bouncing off the walls.
he twitches with each rise and fall of his hips, switching between a slow pace and a needy pace. he can’t help but ride faster when he imagines it’s your strap fucking him into the mattress relentlessly, calling him your slut, pounding into him when he begs for more.
“f-fuck, yeah. yeah, ‘m your slut.”
he chokes out a moan, caught up in his own fantasy as his eyes flutter shut. he slows his hips, letting the toy drag along his insides so lewdly and his hips jerk violently when it kisses his prostate so intimately. beads of precum adding to the puddle below.
“o-ooh, g-god… right there, right there. please, right there,” he gasps, repeating the same movement to hit his sweetest spot over and over again. each time increases the pitch of his moans and pulls his eyes further back into his skull. “oh my fuckin’ god… wish you were here. wish-- hnngh… wish you could fuck me. i need you hah so bad, mommy.”
he leans forward, hot palms pressing against the wooden floorboards to ground himself as he eagerly bucks his hips against the dildo. shallow thrusts complemented with filthy shlick shlick shlicks. and despite his rhythm becoming slightly unsteady, his arch never wavers. a show just for you.
what a blessing it is to have the strongest wrapped around your finger and so needy for you while you’re miles away on a mission.
a string of drool hangs from the corner of his mouth, his maw hanging open and his eyes rolled back in such a pornographic display. it’s a combination of wanting to put on a show for you and the pure ecstasy buzzing through his system.
“i’m making such a mess,” he mutters, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with a need that only you can satiate. he glances down at the continuous dripping of precum from the blushing head of his cock, yet he never moves to touch it. “need to cum so bad.”
he braces himself with his hands pushed against the floor, rocking his hips faster. desperate, uninhibited, insatiable. he smacks his ass down on it, his rhythm stuttering and wanton moans getting caught in his throat as he manages to attack his prostate insistently.
he tightens around the toy, imagining the condescending lilt in your voice as you tease him for being so eager. and it only making him fuck himself harder, taking the dildo deep until his mouth falls open and his eyes screw shut.
“oh, f-fuck, fuck, ngh fuck… it’s so-- i’m so close,” he whimpers, in between stutters and broken moans so wispy they get lost in the heated atmosphere of the room. “please, please… just a little more… gonna be hah s-so good for you.”
with a few more unsteady rolls of his hips and pitched moans of your name, rambling like a prayer, spurts of cum suddenly shoot all over the floor and he shakes with hot pleasure coursing through him.
his head is tilted all the way back it’s a miracle it hasn’t snapped, his adam’s apple bobbing as he struggles to let strangled noises free, silence falling from his lips.
he continues to ride the dildo, dragging his orgasm out until he’s milked his cock for all its worth, twitching with each rope of cum it squirts out.
through laboured breaths, he gradually comes back to his senses, opening his eyes to make sure his phone camera captured every second of it. and a pleased smirk slinks onto his lips as he faces the camera. a smirk that tells you what exactly will happen once you come back home.
Heyyy Bug! I saw your requests were open and I wanted to see if you’d write some fluffy, high, smutty something with Argyle? Childhood best friend!fem!reader and Argyle get high, they fuck, it’s fluffy as shit, something that’d make me giggle, he’s the cutest ever, reader can be a soft!dom? I’d be so honored if you took this request, you’re kinda famous to me lol 😂❤️🖤
Much like Eddie Munson, flattery works with me. Also, welcome to the Argyle fan club 👋🏼
Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, van sex, friends-to-lovers, weed smoking, softdom!female!Reader, subby!Argyle (but also kinda switch!Argyle)
WC: 2.1k
“Wanna play Never Have I Ever?”
You looked up, blinking through the smoky haze that filled the back of the Surfer Boy van. “What?”
Argyle laughed and took another hit from his joint before passing it to you. “The game, y’know, where you say something you haven’t done and then the other person takes a shot if they’ve done it—”
“I know how to play the game.” You savored each second of the inhale before breathing out. A weightless tingle buzzed at your fingertips as you began to relax. “But we already know everything about each other. And we don’t have anything to drink.”
He scratched at the light patch of stubble dusting his cheek, pondering the problem for a moment. “We could take a hit, then.” His lazy grin widened. “I’ll start: Never have I ever…used a tampon.”
You rolled your eyes. “For fuck’s sake,” you grumbled, but obliged him anyway. It wasn’t as though you didn’t want to get high. “Fine. If that’s how you wanna play: Never have I ever gotten a boner.”
Raucous belly-laughter erupted from your best friend. He was well on his way to being stoned, if he wasn’t already there.
“Okay, okay.” Argyle took a long hit. “No more playing dirty. It’s gotta be legit, alright?”
Your stomach flip-flopped as he pensively bit his lower lip. All at once, your mind was flooded with thoughts of his perfectly kissable mouth. You stifled a shiver as you imagined those plush lips on your neck, your collarbone, your chest—
“Yo.” Argyle snapped his fingers in front of your face, yanking you from your fantasies and plunking you down in the back of his van. “You good?”
“Mhm. Yeah.” You cleared your throat and prayed that he didn’t notice your embarrassment. “Just kinda spaced out.”
Argyle cocked one eyebrow but refrained from further questioning. “Okay. Lemme know if you need water or something.”
His eyes cautiously flicked over your body. He’s just making sure you’re not gonna pass out on him, you told yourself. That’s all.
“What was the prompt?”
“Never have I ever…had a sex dream about someone I shouldn’t.”
Without thinking, you took a long, exasperated hit from the joint. The realization only dawned on you when you exhaled.
“Wait, you’ve never had a sex dream about someone you shouldn’t?”
His eyes widened, dark brown irises starkly contrasted against the pink-tinged sclera, as he burst into a fresh round of laughs.
“Oh, shit!” Argyle cackled. “I forgot that part. Here, gimme.”
You placed the burning joint between his fingers. His nail beds had been bitten down, a nervous habit he’d had since you two were kids.
“Who was your dream about?” Curiosity got the best of you, even though you weren’t quite sure you wanted to know the answer.
Argyle ran a hand over his face. “Oh, God. Um, no judgment, alright?”
“I make no promises.”
“Fine.” He barreled on ahead. “Remember our tenth-grade history teacher? Mrs. Flemming?”
If you had to list potential subjects for his dirty dream, your eighty-year-old history teacher wouldn’t have even cracked your top ten guesses.
“You’re kidding.” A giggle slipped past your lips when he ducked his head in shame. “Args, she probably knew so much about ancient history because she was there!”
Argyle scoffed. “Hey, she had a very comforting presence! And an…ample bosom! You can’t blame a guy’s unconscious mind for wandering. Besides,” he took another hit, this time out of necessity rather than obligation, “her class was so boring. I was bound to fall asleep at some point.”
“You had the dirty dream during her class?!”
“Enough!” He snuffed out the flame in the novelty ashtray you’d bought him. He had a million ashtrays, but you couldn’t pass up buying him one in the shape of a pizza slice. “Since you wanna be nosey, why don’t you tell me who your dream was about?”
You choked on nothing. “Pass.”
“C’mon. I won’t tell anyone. You’re basically my only friend. Well, besides Byers—wait.” Argyle paused. “Was your sexy dream about Byers? Do you have a thing for him? Because Nancy is small, but she’s scrappy. Trust me, I—”
“No.” You shook your head. “No, it wasn't about Byers.”
Please stop asking. Just shut up. For once in your life, just shut up, Argyle.
“Then who? You gotta tell me. It’s only fair.”
He stretched his arms above his head, knuckles grazing on the van’s ceiling. His shirt crept upward, exposing the strip of skin where his happy trail disappeared into his boxers.
You set your jaw, determined to avoid answering his question at all costs. You’d stumble out of the van, baked like a cake, and walk home if it meant keeping your secret.
“Wait, was it about me?”
And there it was. All you could do now was deny. There was only one problem: Argyle was like a bloodhound when it came to lies. He could sniff out a half-truth from a mile away.
Your non-answer was enough to confirm his suspicions. “Holy shit.” A dopey grin replaced his confusion. “Now you gotta tell me everything.”
“What do you mean? I fell asleep, had the dream, woke up—”
“Nah, nah, nah.” Argyle put a hand up to stop you; it took all of your restraint not to smack it away. “I needa hear all the dirty details.”
Fear crept up your throat, a burning urge that nearly sent you breaking down the van door and bolting down the tree-lined street.
But there was something in Argyle’s eyes—behind the mischief; beyond teasing—that kept you rooted in place. It was a timidness, a desperation, to know exactly what happened in your dream.
You toyed with a frayed string dangling from the hem of your denim miniskirt. “We were making out—”
“Where?”
“In my dream.”
“No,” he shook his head, “I meant, where in the dream were we making out?”
Right. “Um, here. In your van.” Why were you so flustered over a stupid dream?
“My van.” Argyle took a deep breath, reaching for the joint and re-lighting it. The earthy scent wafted throughout the tiny space. “Were we laying down, or…?”
“You were laying down. I was, y’know, on top.” You couldn’t bring yourself to say that you’d been straddling him; it was difficult enough to tell him the position. “And you were, um, shirtless.”
Without hesitation, Argyle pulled his Surfer Boy t-shirt over his head and tossed it into the front seat. He laid back, resting his weight on his elbows. “So I was like this?”
“Yeah,” you nodded. “And I was like this.” Clumsily, you swung one leg on the other side of his, hovering your center over his. You could feel the heat radiating off of him.
“And we were makin’ out?” His lips twitched in a nervous smirk.
You nodded again, laser-focused on the gentle curve of his mouth. Maybe it was the weed talking, but you could no longer fight the urge to taste his tongue with your own. “Yeah,” you repeated, clearing your throat. “Like this.”
You leaned down, capturing Argyle’s mouth in a gentle kiss. His hands gripped the back of your thighs like they were magnetized, pulling you closer to him.
There was no fanfare in your concession to the aching need in your core. A moan echoed through the van as your hips met his and you melted into his frantic embrace. You savored the drag of your panties against his cotton pants with each movement.
“Fuck yes.” Argyle’s words came out in a breath, his tone tinged with relief. “K-Keep talking. Please.”
His unfiltered desperation awoke something within you. Your own desire stirred, and you had no intention of quelling it.
“Your hands were…here.” You slid his palms down to your ass. He held it like it might burn him, his fingers barely grazing the lace of your panties. “Tighter, Args. Like you mean it.”
Argyle’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, but he listened. His fingertips bit into your skin, drawing another moan from your throat. You squeezed your eyes shut as you sifted through your jumbled thoughts in search of the memory of that dream.
Concentrating was easier said than done, especially with his rigid cock nudging against your clit. Your palms splayed over his bare chest, thumbs brushing over the hair that dusted his pecs.
“You kept moaning my n-name—oh, shit.” Your breath caught in your throat as Argyle bucked his hips. “And you were begging me to…to…”
“To what?” He couldn’t hide the urgency in his voice.
“To ride you.”
Your words were a burst of cold air that brought his movements to a sudden halt. He brushed a few rogue strands of raven hair from his eyes, as though he’d clear his vision and find that he’d hallucinated the entire encounter.
“I can…I can do that.” He swallowed thickly. His dark brown eyes bore into you as your name flowed from his lips like a sacred prayer. The grip he held on your ass was just short of lethal, almost certain to leave behind some bruising, but it was easy to ignore when grinding on him felt so good. “Oh, fuck. You–we gotta stop.”
You tried to hide your disappointment, but it clung to your words. “What’s wrong?”
“Gonna need to change my drawers if we don’t stop.” Argyle offered you a sheepish grin. “And I, uh, don’t really keep any spares in here, so…”
You hooked a finger into the waistband of his boxers. “What if you came…not in your drawers?”
His eyebrows flew towards his hairline. “Y-Yeah. I mean, if it’s cool with you. No, like, pressure–”
With as much bravado as you could muster, you brought your lips to his ear. “Then beg me.”
“Ride me. Please. God, I fucking need you to ride me, please.” One hand slipped into yours. “I’m gonna come so fast, I know it.”
“S’okay.” As carefully as you could, you tugged his boxers down his thighs. Pre-cum leaked from the tip of his cock; only the knowledge that he would finish before he was ready kept you from licking it away.
Argyle sucked in a harsh breath the moment you took him in your hand. “Please, please, please…please ride me. Please ride me. Need you to–holy…fuckin’...God…”
He filled you completely, so much so that you took an extra moment to adjust to the newfound fullness before moving your hips again. “If you’re gonna come fast, you’d better get me off first.”
“Yeah, no, absolutely, yeah.” His thumb found your clit, moving in languid circles until you ordered him to go faster. “This good?”
“Mhm.” It was better than ‘good,’ but you’d have to tell him that when you could find a word to accurately describe it. “I’m gonna come, oh my God, Argyle!”
You threw your head back as your orgasm roared through you, more intense than anything you’d felt from anyone else’s fingers. Including your own.
Argyle’s biceps flexed under your grasp. His hips snapped up to meet yours, a slew of curses chasing his movements. “Can I come? Please? I gotta come so bad, baby, please–”
“Come,” you said definitively. With his kiss-swollen pout and his big eyes, you doubted you’d be able to deny him even if you wanted to. “Made me feel so good; now it’s your turn.”
He didn’t waste a second, spilling into you with another cry of your name. His chest rose and fell as he caught his breath, a giggle interrupting his ragged panting.
“Holy shit, dude. I didn’t even know I was into that begging stuff.” He wiped the sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. “In my dreams, you’re always the one begging for me.”
“Really? Wait,” you furrowed your brows, “I thought you said your embarrassing sex dream was about Mrs. Flemming. You didn’t mention anything about me.”
Argyle braced himself on his elbows. “Well, yeah. Why would I be embarrassed to have a sex dream about you? You’re hot.”
Despite the fact that he was the one laying underneath you, completely naked except for the boxers that now rested below his knees, a surge of vulnerability heated you from within. “You’re hot, too,” you said with a laugh. “Ridiculously hot. And…now I really wanna act out your dream.”
“Oh, hell yeah. Gimme ten minutes.” Argyle’s mischievous smile quickened your heartbeat. “Maybe five, if you take off your shirt.”
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