could you write argyle x shy!reader headcanons? i feel like their dynamic would be so cute
I may have gotten carried away 🫣 smutty headcanons under the cut.
Argyle is such a sucker for his shy girl
When he first sees you, he’s immediately dumbstruck
He’s bringing a pizza to your table of friends and rambles about god knows what
“Uh, hey, here’s your pizza. I’m, um, Argyle. If you need anything. Like napkins. I see you, uh, have napkins, but if you need more…I have napkins in the back. Of the store. There’s lots of napkins. No napkin shortage here. It’s sad for the trees but good for, uh, spills.”
He makes you smile without even meaning to
One of your friends goes up to him later and gives him your number
When he calls and asks you out, it’s more rambling where he’s trying to sound casual but utterly fails
“Do you like movies? Yeah, me, too. Oh, hey, we should see one together! Maybe Friday night, if you’re free. Or if not, that’s cool. Well, not cool because I’d be super bummed. But no pressure or anything, man. I mean, woman.”
When you accept, Argyle takes you on a date
He lets you pick the movie
He does the yawn-and-stretch, his heart beating a million miles an hour
And then you carefully snuggle into him and his brain goes HOLY SHIT
Man literally doesn’t move the entire time except to very gingerly take popcorn from the bucket you’re sharing
Once you’re officially together, Argyle introduces you to Jonathan
You’re nervous about meeting his best friend, and he calms you down
“You have nothing to worry about, princesa. Byers’ll be on his best behavior. He knows not to mess with my girl.”
(What you don’t know is that Argyle threatened to cut off Jonathan’s supply of Purple Palm Tree Delight if he made one wrong move.)
Speaking of when you get nervous, especially in social situations, Argyle is the king of forehead kisses
He just goes, “hey, look at me” and then leans in and MWAH on your forehead
Argyle always lets you braid his hair
If you’ve never smoked before, he teaches you how, never laughing when you cough
“Just a little inhale. There ya go, mi querida.”
He loves watching you get comfortable with the people he cares about
The first time you (lovingly) make fun of Jonathan, Argyle bursts out laughing
“Well, you do look like Ringo if his mom gave him a bowl cut!”
Argyle loooooves holding your hand
He always does that little thumb-rubbing thing as a way to remind you that you’re safe with him
NSFW BELOW
You’re not super into PDA, but you do love make-out sessions in the back of his van
The first time you make out with him in the back of his van, he gets really into it
Like, cums in his pants after dry humping for a few minutes
Not so dry after that
One thing Argyle did not expect is how loudly his shy girl moans
You’re breathless and squirming beneath him, arching your back as he pulls you close
When you realize how noisy you’re being, you nervously bite your lower lip, but he takes his thumb and draws your lip from under your teeth
“Even your moans are beautiful, amor. Please let me hear them.”
Always asking you what you like
“Does this feel good? Just wanna make you feel good. Fuck, I’ll do anything for you.”
His favorite is when you straddle his waist, the two of you shotgunning a joint until you’re both too giggly to smoke any more
“I’m gonna kiss those pretty little lips right off of your pretty little face. God, I love you, baby.”
A/N: MANGO GREETINGS EVERYONE. Idk what this is. It’s the end of mango season here in California so… Both reader and Argyle are older…in their mid-late 40s probably. So no age gap of any kind here. Also that pic at the top of the eye was the only one i could find that fit the ~aesthetic~ (cringes). Do you know how hard it is to find a middle-aged, brown-eyed man with the sun in his eyes + a warm filter? I have a whole ass life outside of this webbed site, that’s as good as it’s gonna get with me. Writing for Argyle because he is my special guy who should get way more love than he does. Mentions of eating. Gets a lil spicy at the end so..MDNI. Wrote this for me, sharing with all of you. :)
You stood at the base of the tree proudly looking up. The mango tree this year bloomed insanely well. Perfect drupes hung ready to harvest. The warm, summer breeze carrying the fragrant scent all throughout your yard. It was slightly a scary amount of fruit. Exciting as it was, you were worried about what you were going to do with that many mangoes. As is, sorbet, salad, salsa, sticky rice…there were only so many ways you’d be able to consume them before you’d probably get sick of them.
If it was even possible.
You turned to look at the crate at your feet with the intention of filling it to put out for your neighbors to come and help themselves.
It made for pleasant and easy work. The sun was at your back and setting when you were about to climb down the tall ladder when you saw it. The perfect mango hanging from the end of a nearby branch. Expertly you extended the fruit picking pole and snatched it. The wooden rod of the pole slipping through your grip to bring the steel wire basket closer.
It was impeccably shaped and perfect in color. You brought it to your nose to smell its fruity, earthy scent. It made your mouth water. Almost too perfect to eat.
Almost.
No sense in waiting. You had to eat it then and there, oblivious to the fact that you had an audience.
Argyle’s favorite thing to do after work, when the afternoon had cooled, was to sit on the backyard patio and unwind. There was a time before where he openly indulged with a bong in hand. However, those days had come and gone since his mother, now elderly, moved in with him. And while he was very much a grown man, his mom would never let him hear the end of it. He had to get creative.
Cooking and baking had always come very easy for him. So naturally, edibles were the solution. He had been careful to decarb the weed outside on his grill to keep the smell to a minimum and it turned out just fine. And what a better place to store his cannabutter, edibles, and tinctures than in the fridge in the garage? His mom never went in there.
He slid the glass door to his backyard open and walked over to his goodie fridge. After taking a few drops of tincture, he also pulled a tamarind Jarritos and went to sit in his favorite chair. It had a prime view of all the birds that would fly by or stop at the bird feeders hanging from the mango tree in his neighbor’s yard. His favorite neighbor.
He smiled to himself remembering the first time he saw you outside watering your plants. Unfortunately for him, he had a reluctant meeting with the concrete. He’d been too distracted staring at you instead of manuevering his board away from a large crack in the cement.
—
“The new neighbor..” he had whispered just before he felt himself propel forward and the board below him abruptly stop.
Hearing the telltale grunt along with the clatter of polyurethane and wood, you turned in his direction.
“You okay?!” You had called to him in concern while he looked back to where his skateboard shot to. Putting your watering can down, you rushed over to him while he got up. As you got closer, his throat suddenly felt dry. He struck the tail of his board with his foot and it popped up into his palm. He felt his face burn in embarassment but he smiled all the same.
You expected some neighborhood kid when you had turned to see where the noise came from. You weren’t expecting the tall man with a veil of dark hair falling below his waist. His gray DIY muscle shirt was slightly sweat through at the chest. You liked the faded red bandana rolled up and tied around his head to keep the sweat from his eyes. Deep, brown eyes wrinkled at the edges when he squinted as his smile got bigger. A mustache and stubble framed his smile and covered his dimples.
“Yeah..these cracks, you know. Dangerous.” He held the skateboard by the truck and lamely pointed to where it got caught.
You nodded and mirrored his smile. “I’ll be sure to watch for them. Hey, you live next door. I just moved in–“ You gave him your name and stuck your hand out for him to shake. He took it readily but not before rubbing his palm on the side of his well-loved Gecko brand pants.
He told you his name. Unique enough to never forget. Argyle.
—
Since that first meeting a year ago, you’d exchanged smiles and pleasantries from the driveway on the nights before trash day. Come winter, his mom had made sure to send him over with a bag of tamales. Your heart might have skipped a beat when he told you he had helped. He sat with you that night as he insisted you give him a full review. He loved watching you practically lick the plate clean as you gushed at how insanely good they were.
Things carried on like that. Double-checking your reflection to just go outside and fetch the mail. Going on walks around the neighborhood as another excuse to run into him. You looked forward to seeing him around. And you got the same feeling from him as you caught him spending more and more time outside. You couldn’t help your giddyness when he walked over to chat you up about your new succulent arrangment you made on your porch.
He had seen you climb up the ladder and rustle the leaves, picking the best mangoes. He wanted to call out to you but decided against it, happy to watch you spend time within the leafy branches. You reminded him of a hummingbird. Busy and excited to be among the abundance of sweet fruit.
Argyle became entranced as the homemade sublingual tincture took effect. Your fluid movements slowed down as the sun shone behind you. The rays shifted this way and that. Argyle remembered a page in an art history book he had laying around. It had been labeled ‘Morning Star’ painted by a guy named Alphonse something. He couldn’t remember. And as you wiped the sweat from your brow, he contemplated how life imitated art. Or was it the other way around?? It didn’t matter. What mattered was that you refracted the light in such a way that he wondered if you were magic.
Leaning an elbow on the top of a ladder, you buffed the mango on the front of your shirt. Utterly relaxed and uncaring of the dust that once coated it. You brought it to your lips and began peeling it with your teeth. The buttery, orange meat was as perfect as the exterior. Drops of juice traveled down your palm and continued down to leave a crooked glistening path across your arm.
The first bite sated the need to tear through the mound of pulp that sat on one side of the seed. You slurped at the gush of sweet nectar and swiped the back of your hand across your chin at whatever dribbled down it. You went for another bite. And another. And another. Until your teeth scratched the surface of the seed. You went to peel off more of the skin when you heard a shuffle.
“Damn. You sure do make that mango look good.”
The ladder wobbled at how fast you turned to look at your neighbor walking over to the fence that divided your yards. He carried the chair with him and propped it against the fence. You watched as he momentarily disappeared and reappeared. Not exactly at your level but he was close enough to touch now. His elbows rested against the top of the cinderblock wall.
You laughed, self-consciously still wiping at your chin and checking the front of your shirt. Face feeling extra sweaty now. “Well, that’s not embarassing. Didn’t expect to have an audience while I stuffed my face.
He smiled, “Embarassed? Pshh, no judgment here. If I had a tree with that many tasty-looking mangos on it, I’d sit under it with my mouth open.” He tilted his head back and mimed catching mangos with his mouth making you both laugh.
Catching yourself in a prolonged goofy-smiled staring contest, you looked down at the mango in your hand. Peeling away whatever skin was left. “You know, being my neighbor has its benefits.”
He nodded, pretending to be impressed. “Oh, really? What kinda benefits?”
You nodded along with him and climbed to a lower step to be eye level with him. “Mm, well for starters…” Holding out the mango to share with him, he took it from you without a second thought. You leaned against the fence next to him to watch him eat it.
He looked you in the eyes when he brought it up and sunk his teeth into the other side. In what felt like seconds, he bit at and licked the seed clean. He was smug as he wiped his glistening, full lips with the inside of his wrist. You were quiet and clenched around nothing.
The next words fell from your mouth in a breathless whisper. “You want more?”
The three word question hung heavy between you two. And to whatever you meant, all signs in Argyle’s brain pointed to YES. Were you this close to him the whole time? He felt very warm.
He cleared his throat when he realized he hadn’t responded. “Only if you want more. I mean– uh, because I’ve got some stuff over here in my fridge, that’s gonna make it feel– I mean taste, even better. The mangoes, I mean.” He swallowed hard.
“Your mom home?” Your brain was on one track and it was barreling to its destination.
He nodded. You mirrored his movements and the space between you both became infinitesimally small. His half-lidded eyes shifted between both of yours and dropped to your lips. The months of flirting and tension mounted to this moment. He didn’t waste any more time as he moved forward in whatever space was left between you to capture your lips with his. It was soft and warm at first. Breathy and sweet. But seconds passed and when he placed his hand on the nape of your neck to pull you even closer, the fire burning between you both threatened to engulf you. Reluctantly, you broke away. Speaking in only a whisper, afraid that the haze around you both would clear, “Grab it all and come over.”
In a blink of an eye you both fell away from each other. Rushing to meet at your front door.
Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), fingering, oral (f! receiving), heavy mentions of diet culture & body image issues, language
WC: 1.8k
Kinkmas 2022 Masterlist
A/N: Special thanks to @trashmouth-richie for her help with the dialogue. Love you, bb squirrel <3
--
For some people, the prospect of the New Year brings thoughts of renewal and hope. Reconnection with loved ones, new resolutions, and promises to keep.
For you, it meant being inundated with advertisements for diets to “combat holiday weight gain” or to “earn your dream body.” As much as you tried to tune out the commercials and magazine spreads, it was nearly impossible. Low carb, low fat, and low self-esteem.
Your boyfriend didn’t see you that way. Argyle was always telling you how beautiful you are, how lucky he is to be with someone so sexy. If only you could believe him.
It had been a few weeks since you two had had sex. You’d blamed the stress and busyness of the holiday season, but he knew there was something deeper. So on New Year’s Eve, when you were on his lap, nuzzling into his neck, he took the opportunity to bring it up.
“Baby,” he murmurs into your ear and slides a strong hand up your pajama shirt, “care to ring in the New Year with me?”
You warm at his touch, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. “I’m kinda sleepy,” you lie lamely, and he furrows his brows.
“Whas’ going on, my love?” Argyle’s voice is all concern; he’s forgotten about the prospect of sex and is only worried about what’s eating you.
“‘S just all the weight loss stuff, like, in my face,” you mumble, embarrassed just to admit it. “Hard seeing all these supermodels and knowing I’ll never look like them.”
Argyle’s lips peck kisses down your throat. “Don’t want you to look like them, anyway,” he tells you. “Love your beautiful curves.”
You sigh in exasperation. “But I want to look like them,” you protest quietly. “I don’t feel beautiful.”
He pauses, carefully choosing his response. “If you’ll let me,” he starts, staring into your eyes with his dark brown orbs, “I’d like to show you just how gorgeous I think you are.”
You nod, curious at what he has planned. Before you can ask any questions, he scoops you up in his arms, muscular from years of pizza-making. You giggle as he plunks you down onto the bed.
“Args,” you manage between peals of laughter, “what’re you doing?”
But Argyle is dead serious, licking his pillowy lips in concentration. “Gonna fuckin’ worship this body of yours, baby girl,” he muses.
His eyes roam your body hungrily. “Can I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the hem of your pajama shirt.
“Yeah,” you concede. Argyle lifts it over your head, exposing your bare chest. He exhales, a grin spreading across his face.
“So…fucking…perfect…” he breathes, punctuating each word with nipping kisses along your cleavage. You moan lightly, starting to lay down, but he grasps the small of your back and leads you back up.
“Nuh-uh,” he clicks his tongue and points to the full-length mirror that hangs on the closet door. “I want you to watch how sexy you are. Want you to see what I see.”
You’re uncertain, not fully believing that you’ll ever view yourself the way he does, but you reluctantly give it a shot. “Okay, baby. I…I trust you.” And you do. You know he wouldn’t lie to you, so you glance at yourself in the mirror. All you see are imperfections, and you instinctively curl up into yourself.
Argyle trails soft kisses from your neck to your collarbones. “You’re stunning, babe. Look at you. I’d devour you whole if that wasn’t considered cannibalism.” You feel a smile tug at the corners of your mouth. He just has a way of making you feel so safe, even in your most vulnerable moments.
His lithe fingers traipse along your breasts, nipples pebbled from both the chill in the air and his touch. “Baby girl, I dream about your tits. I wanna hold them, suck on them, fuck them, whatever I can to claim them as mine. All mine.” He smiles mischievously. “Can I tell you a secret? They’re my favorite place to cum. Just love seeing ‘em covered in me.”
His lips travel from your upper chest to your arms. “These arms, these hands,” he groans, throwing his head back. His long black hair brushes against your fingers. “Can’t lie to you, honey; I love watching you use your hands. Even when you’re using them to cook or write, I just…I’m mesmerized.”
You look at him incredulously. “My hands? Really?”
“Mhm,” he answers without hesitation. “‘Course, I’m partial to them being wrapped around my dick. Makes it look so big.”
“It is big, Args,” you start to argue, but he silences you with a deep, passionate kiss.
“It’s not about me tonight; it’s about you,” your boyfriend states simply. “I hate when you talk shit about yourself; you’re perfect for me. Fuck what anyone else looks like.” He pauses, gazing at you. “Am I some kinda buff body builder? Hell nah, man, but you love me, right?”
You nod. “Of course I do!” How could he think otherwise?
He slides down to his knees, opening your legs so he can seat himself between them. “I would spend every last minute of every day kissing your body to prove to you just how beautiful you are,” he whispers against your tummy, gripping your hips with his long fingers. “Like these thighs.” He squeezes the plush of your upper legs, sending tingles down your spine. “Jus’ perfect for grabbing and, uh, I fuckin’ love feeling them squeezing me when I eat this pretty pussy.” He blushes slightly at the admission before hooking his forefingers into the waistband of your pants and pulling them down, leaving you in just your panties.
“Now,” he continues, scooting you forward slightly so you’re at the edge of the bed, “your ass. I have this fantasy where you’re laying down, completely naked, and I just roll blunts on it. Is that, like, weird?”
You shake your head. “Kinda sexy, actually,” you admit, earning a chuckle from him.
“Right?” Argyle’s clearly ecstatic that you agree with him. “Maybe we could try it out sometime?” He bites his lower lip, and you lean over and take it between your own. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs.
His hands turn you over so you’re laying on your stomach. He kneads the doughy flesh of your ass, groaning harshly. “I could write, like, fuckin’ sonnets or whatever bullshit I was supposed to learn in school about this thing.” You feel a slight sting as his palm smacks into it, not hard enough to leave a print, but enough to make you wince. “Just…look at it. Never seen a more perfect ass in my whole life.”
Before he can flip you back over, he runs a finger down to your clothed pussy. “Shit, honey,” he exhales as you whimper at the contact, “I can feel how wet you are through your panties.”
“Because of y-you, Argyle,” you stammer. “Please k-keep touching me.”
“As you wish.” He clambers on top of you, kissing down your spine. Your body writhes underneath his mouth, aching for more.
“Argyle,” you whine impatiently. “Please.”
He brings his face closer to yours. “Is that not where you wanted me to touch?” He feigns confusion. “Did you want me to touch…here?” You inhale sharply when his middle finger ghosts over your clit.
“Y-yes. Fuck yes. Right there.”
“Mhm,” Argyle acknowledges, repositioning you on your back. He lowers himself back onto the floor between your trembling legs, pressing his lips to your throbbing cunt. The thin fabric of your panties has never felt so intrusive; all you want is for him to rip them off. Instead, he takes his time, slowly tugging them down your legs.
“This pussy,” he begins with a playful smirk on his face, “has me thinking absolutely sinful dirty thoughts.”
“Like what?”
He throws you a look that can only be interpreted as So glad you asked, baby.
“Like that time you rode me in the back of my van before my shift, and I was so fucked out I fell asleep before I could take a single order. Or the time I fingered you and you came so hard, it dripped down my fuckin’ arm.” He palms himself over his pants at the memory. “Makes me so horny, you have no idea.”
You squirm, making him laugh. “Okay, baby girl. I won’t make you wait any longer.” And with that, he dives between your thighs, licking at your folds. You give out a guttural moan when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently at first, but getting stronger as your whimpers get louder.
“Yes, Argyle. Feels s-so good. Yessss!” The bed rocks back and forth as he ruts against it, attempting to relieve the pressure in his pants. You hiss as he pushes a digit into your pussy, mouth still attentive to your sensitive bud.
“Too much or just enough?” he asks when you buck your hips into him.
“‘Nother finger,” you manage between breathy gasps, and he obliges. “Love being so full of you, Argyle. Love getting all your attention.”
He acknowledges your praise with a hum, sending vibrations through your sex and speeding up your release. His tongue hungrily laps at your cunt as his fingers plunge in and out of you at a rapid pace.
“Don’tstopdon’tstopohpleasedon’tstop,” you plead. “I’m coming, gonna cum for you.”
“Watch yourself cum, baby.” Argyle’s voice is slightly muffled, but you can hear his orders just fine. “Watch how fucking gorgeous you are when you cum for me.”
Your legs rest gracefully on his shoulders. Your thighs press against his cheeks, clenching as he hits your sweet spot over and over. Your tits heave as you lean into your orgasm. And in that moment, when you reach your peak, you see some of that beauty.
When your breathing slows and your legs stop shaking, Argyle pulls back and wipes his slick-covered mouth with his hand. “Still the sweetest pussy,” he coos.
“Let me take care of you,” you offer, motioning for him to come closer, but he just shakes his head and laughs.
“That, um, won’t be necessary.” His gaze lowers to the damp patch spreading on the crotch of his pants. “Got me so worked up just talking about how incredible you are, an’ when I started eating you out…couldn’t hold back.” He’s not embarrassed in the slightest; in fact, he seems downright proud that he got off making his girl cum.
“I love you,” you tell him, beaming. “I love you, I love you, I fucking love you.”
“I love you more,” he says, and you just stick out your tongue in protest.
“Y’know,” you start cheekily, “that was really good. I could use a smoke after coming that hard.”
“Oh?” Argyle raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah…you wanna roll one for me?” You give a suggestive shake of your ass, knowing you have him in the palm of your hand.
