Black fem reader one-shot collection

Sweet and Sour, A

Author's note: Argyle is so underrated it's insane the man is 6'3, a smoker and fine asf. Plus he's employed a lot of men can't say that but Argyle can!

Summary: You and Argyle try to find out which one of you taste more like pineapple. Content: Being high with Argyle, kissing/making out, kissing with tongue.

You and Argyle had few things in common, among those things were a love for pineapples and getting high.

Applying a fresh layer of lip gloss, you blew yourself a kiss in your hand held mirror, admiring the shine of the speckled yellow glitter before taking a look at your eyes. They looked how they always did when you were high. Half lidded, with a fog to them. Amused, you turn to Argyle, so you can laugh together, but you find him already staring at you. Your lips specifically. A few good seconds pass before he realizes he was caught, and one of you speaks up.

"I was thinking..." He tries to make something up on the spot. "Do you taste like pineapple?" He said with a smile.

"What." It takes you a moment to understand what he meant. "Ohh." You said, realizing he was referring to your lip gloss. "Yea probably, probably you too, right."

You point to the now empty can of pineapples Argyle had "borrowed" from work, on accident, of course.

"Oh yeah." He slowly nodded in agreement. "But which one of us taste more like pineapple is the real question."

"Wow." The word dragged on, your eyes widening in disbelief. "I didn't even think about that, how do we find out, though?"

"Find out what?"

You two stare at each other for a moment, having completely forgotten about what you were talking about, before you come up with a genius idea.

"We should kiss." You tell Argyle, suddenly remembering what you two were trying to get to the bottom of.

"What."

Instantly, his eyes light up and Argyle practically freezes before swallowing thickly. Quickly he agrees with you stuttering and stammering, clearly very open to your idea but still very nervous. Smiling, you laugh and giggle at this new-found eagerness before clumsily climbing on top of Argyle's lap. Straddling him, a small noise leaves the both of you as you rest your weight on him. He swallows thickly again, and you wonder if his mouth was dry.

"Here." You say, grabbing the practically empty water bottle beside the two of you.

He accepts it with a nervous smile, downing whatever was left in it before thanking you.

"Better?" You ask softly, trying to make sure he was comfortable.

All Argyle does is nod. Almost completely sure it was all he could do right now without ruining the moment. Certain that this was something you both wanted, you brought your hands to the sides of Argyle's head. Pushing his long hair behind his ears before cupping his face and brining your lips to his. Kissing him.

Soft. Everything about Argyle was so fucking soft. His hair, his skin, his lips, and even the kiss was the first time around. But after that, Argyle had suddenly unfrozen, and quickly he matched your energy. You'd never made out with anyone before, and you were almost certain Argyle hadn't either, and truthfully you couldn't tell if the fact that you were both high was helping or not. Regardless, you were sure it was heightening the experience because this had to be the best kiss you'd ever had.

His movements are hesitant as Argyle brought one of his large hands to the back of your neck. The other sitting on the small of your back before sliding past your ass and under your thigh, squeezing lightly before stroking your skin with his thumb. The feeling strikes a bolt of lightning within you, a small moan slipping through your lips.

Pulling away, you and Argyle took deep and shaky breaths, suddenly very hyperaware of what you had just done. His eyes were wide now, but he didn't look frozen this time. Instead, Argyle looked almost starstruck. His tongue ran over his bottom and top lip, the slightest hint of pineapple tingling his taste buds. Yellow glitter and the residue of your gloss stained both of your lips.

"You taste amazing." He whispers to himself, or you, or on accident.

You couldn't really tell.

"W-was that a good sound or a bad one?" He asked cautiously.

You're quick to respond.

"Good." You clarify. "Really good."

"Oh." He smiles. "Good."

A moment passes with no words, you and Argyle just sit there staring into each other's dark brown eyes. Anxious about making the next move, but both knowing you wanted to make one.

"I don't think I tasted anything besides lip gloss." You tell Argyle, and his mind lights up like a light bulb.

"Well, maybe this time we should use our tongues this time." He says, raising his eyebrows as if he was proposing something truly profound to you. Which, to him, he was.

You give him a small "Okay." shrugging before kissing argyle again. It started off the same way the first one did, soft and slow, but definitely a lot less nervous. Your lips moved in unison, working together to build up the courage for something beyond just kissing. French kissing specifically. You let a good amount of time pass before you actually make the first move and swipe your tongue across Argyle's bottom lip, and he parts them for you. It's the most open invitation you'd ever been given, and immediately you take it.

Your tongue meets Argyle's, and you're both surprised when he sighs a moan into your mouth. Pineapple is the first thing your mind goes to, Argyle actually tasted like pineapple. His mouth was sweet and tangy, lacking all of the tart and acidity you were expecting. It absolutely beat your expectations, surpassed them even. If he tasted like this all the time, you and him would be doing this much, much more.

"You taste so fucking go-." You try to tell Argyle, but he shuts you up and brings your mouth back to his.

His big hands still resting on your neck and thigh, using both to keep your body close to his, intensifying your movements further. Easily, you both get lost in the feeling and taste of each other. Too far gone to realize how long you'd been like this and truthfully not caring one bit. Giggles, moans, and whimpers leaving both of you only feeding into the other one to make more.

"So sweet."

"So fucking soft."

"God, you taste like heaven."

Mummer after mummer, whisper after whisper.

"Just like pineapples." You say, breaking away from his lips, your eyes meeting his. "My favorite."