Jimin X Black OC Headcannons

Jimin x Black OC Headcannons

Pairing: Jimin x Althea

Synposis: A little intro to Althea Evans, and her relationship with Park Jimin

Jimin/Althea: These two met in a modern sense through a dating app. Jimin reached out by swiping up with a cute pickup line on Althea's profile, and the interaction went as such.

Jimin: Hi! :)

Althea: Hey ;)

Jimin: May I take you out?

Althea: You don't even know me??

Jimin: Will you let me ;)

It was history from there. Jimin wasn't creepy or overtly sexual like some of Althea's previous matches. Althea was a verified user and not another catfish nightmare. Neither side had anything to lose.

Jimin/Althea: Their first date was at an art museum. It contained many classic pieces, making it the perfect place for a photoshoot, which is exactly what ended up happening. Jimin brought his Polaroid camera, snapping pictures of Althea. She had a natural beauty and an overall jovial spirit. She was constantly smiling, her eyes big with wonder. She just carried herself in a carefree manner. It was new to Jimin, a good kind of new.

Jimin/Althea: He keeps one of the pictures that he took of Althea on their first date on the back of his phone case (of course, once they became official). Another event that also didn't take long. Althea quickly saw that Jimin was a very decisive man. If he wanted something, he thought of a game plan on how to get it.

Jimin/Althea: Althea is the type of girlfriend who prefers a public relationship to a private one. She has Jimin's initial in her Instagram bio, and her one public picture is one of Jimin and her cuddling in bed. Jimin is lying on his stomach, his head turned into her chest. Althea is cheesing at the camera frizzy curls on top of her head. The caption is anticlimatic, with a red heart and Jimin's Instagram tag.

"Jimin, come get in my picture." She calls out to her boyfriend. She smoothes out her business trousers. They are getting ready for a grand opening to show support to a mutual friend. Althea puffed out her lips, doing a slight slight duck lip.

Jimin didn't look at the camera, only his girlfriend. Her space became his. His nose touched her cheeks, and he took a deep breath of the floral perfume. Jimin turned his eyes to the camera.

"Smile." Althea posed.

Jimin just looked at the camera and then his girlfriend. In a moment, he slides his tongue up Althea's cheek. Delivering a wet lick.

"Ewwwww Jimin." Althea laughed, saving the video as a treasured memory.

Jimin/Althea: Althea is the first woman Jimin has dated who is his height. Back in his younger days, (late teens- early twenties) he had a strict rule on his partner's heights. It empowered him being the taller one in the relationship. It felt good being the one to make the 'short' jokes instead of being on the receiving end.

But the moment he realized how nice it felt to make eye contact without having to look down was a new feeling. She loved it. It was one of the ways he felt he could connect with Althea. Their eyes had conversations of their own.

It's their world, everyone else is just living in it.

Jimin/Althea: Despite trying her hardest, Althea has a concise attention span. She cannot sit for long periods of time, and long trips are a true test of her patience. She has to get up to stretch her legs or something. Being stationary for too long allowed her thoughts to take control. Which wasn't always a good thing. Hence on the flight to meet Jimin's parents, Jimin packed a stack of playing cards. For the duration of the flight, Jimin taught Althea all sorts of card games.

Jimin/Althea: They are proud pet parents to eight Betta Fish. Two of the fish were apart of a yearly tradition at the state fair. The other six were the babies of the two state fair fish. Sometimes Althea will call up Jimin to update him on the little lives of their babies in the tank.

Jimin/Althea: Jimin got Althea hooked on Korean reality TV shows, specifically Single's Inferno.

"Jia is pulling everyone. Gimme your game card sis."

Jimin rolls his neck at Althea's comment.

"Whatt. It's true."

Every release of a new season they binge it all in one night. It's that bad.

Jimin/Althea: Jimin was mildly impressed to see how high Althea's spice tolerance was. He enjoyed cooking some of his favorite Korean dishes for her, but he tended to stray away from the spicy ones until he watched Althea chow down some gumbo made at her Nana's house in New Orleans. The dish was delicious, but it easily removed two layers off Jimin's tongue. Jimin was a new shade of pink after eating the meal.

Althea, unbothered and unfazed, fixed herself another helping. Not a bead of sweat in sight. Not even a glass of water by her side. She teased Jimin on the flight back home.

Jimin/Althea: Althea takes more pictures of Jimin than Jimin takes of himself. She has a natural gift for capturing the moment. She's had to buy extra gigabytes of storage just to keep up with their relationship, which has been one year. When she is apart from Jimin and can't come to the phone. She scrolls through her many pictures, cheering herself up.

Jimin/Althea: The best compliment Jimin has received from Althea is that he heals her inner child. Take it he was fixing her tea for her sore throat, but the statement caught him off guard. Often, compliments have been focused on his good looks, dance capabilities, or excellent music taste (self-proclaimed). But rarely is he recognized for his emotional soft side. He grew a different level of appreciation for Althea that day.

Jimin/Althea: Not a drinker. She tried in once after her cousins snuck it over at her Nana's house,but she gagged at the awful taste. In college she experimented a little bit with wines, tequila, vodka, and other spirits, but never really saw the hype. Now she chooses to remain abstinent from alcohol. Making her a great DD for Jimin and his friends.

Althea's Bio

Full Name: Althea Irene Evans

DOB: April 28th (26)

Zodiac: Taurus

Height: 5'9

Figure: Slim

Hometown: Lafayette, Louisana

Education: LSU (Louisana State University- Baton Rouge)

Degree: Architecture *Honors

Career: Architecture + Interior Design

Siblings:

Amina Evans (half-sister) 11

Anhai Evans (half-sister) 8

Althea's Mood + Vibe + Aesthetic

[Althea + Jimin Together Vibe]

🎥✨SOUL TIES🏝️🌺

Sunny beaches, relaxing by the poolside, and getting a chance to live with a bunch of hot singles for the next couple of weeks—life in the Love Island Villa sounds amazing. But, Sayori can’t find herself interested in any other guy. Onyankopon’s got her eyes.

LoveIsland Ony!xOriginal Character • MDNI | 3.9k explicit language, h*mping, f*ngering, p*ssy-job, accidental penetration & creamp*e (barely), squirting, dirty-talk, sneaking around, descriptive mentions of body parts & c*m | Boldened italics will be used for the cheeky narrator's voice in the show

Banners: @strangergraphics

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The sun is high in the sky—a typical occurrence on the island of Fiji. And its contestants are soaking it up. Especially the two love birds: 23-year-old Sayori and 25-year-old Onyankopon.

Y’know the saying goes: sun’s out, buns out. And it looks like Sayori’s taking it literally! Though, I don’t think Onyankopon minds all too much. Just look at the way he’s starin’ ‘er down!

Hidden away from the others, the two came up to one of the many balconies within the villa for a chance at a private chat since the newest bombshells joined the house—Soul Ties.

“I’m not … threatened or nothing,” Onyankopon had confessed. “We know what we got.”

The words had made her heart melt. But conversation all too quickly switched to another topic: sex in the villa.

Onyankopon wasn’t so eager on it, but it wasn’t a flat-out ‘no’ either. Sayori, however, had her reservations—the cameras everywhere and constantly rolling, the threat of the others walking in on them—

“So, you scared, is what you saying?”

A sly grin dances on his two-toned lips as he stares at the woman across from him.

SAYORI, 23

Sayori attempts to feign a suave, nonchalant sense of confidence as she flips 28 inches of Burmese curls over her shoulders.

The facade comes crashing down with a snicker, hidden behind her manicured hands.

“Oh. My. Gooosh!”

She’s beaming and it’s impossible to hide.

“Ugh, he just makes me so fucking nervous!”

Her declaration comes with a roll of the eyes.

“Like, I don’t want to move too fast with Ony, but—“ she sighs. “He’s just—it feels right, you know? And I don’t wanna deny myself of anything, then have regrets about it when this is all over.”

For a moment, her smile dims as she stares off.

“I just don’t want to mess up by giving him so much access to me, especially physically, only for him to end up with another girl in the villa.

She pouts, averting her gaze from the camera.

“And I know we’ve only been coupled up for two days, but—I don’t know! I just … really like him.”

A heavy sigh punctuates her confessional.

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Despite resting underneath the shade of the lounge area, his naturally low eyes squint as if trying to take in her beauty in small amounts.

“No,” Sayori playfully sneers. But it’s getting harder to wrestle an inevitable smile under control.

His scoff comes before he shakes his head. Silence slips between the two for a moment. In that time, all he does is watch her.

Beneath fluffy, 16 mm lashes, she looks into her lap as she fiddles with her personalized water bottle.

It’s cute, her shyness. But, he needs her to get out of that shell a bit. And as his mind turns, attempting to come up with a way to do so, his excitement builds.

Energy surges through him. He shifts to sit up higher against the pile of pillows behind him. As he leans back, throwing an arm behind his head, her honey brown eyes spot the flexed muscle. There’s ink decorating his dark skin.

Hmm, I wonder what Sayori’s thinking about.

“Yeah, you are.”

She blinks repeatedly—what were they talking about again? “I’m what?” Her eyes are wide with cluelessness, dark pink lips parted.

“Scared,” his smile grows.

She kisses her teeth. “No, I’m not.”

She might’s well have hearts in ‘er eyes.

Onyankopon’s legs seem to part just a smidge wider.

“Come over here then.”

ONYANKOPON, 25

“Nah, I like Sayori, like … a lot.”

He bursts out in laughter, almost doubling over. Call it nerves, as he’s admitting this all out loud to himself, a camera, and national television.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, dragging a hand over his face.

“No other girl in the villa ever made me feel this interested. Y’know, everybody in here good looking and shit, but—“ he shrugs. “She the one.”

The apples of his cheeks burn as his lips split open even wider for a bigger smile.

“With the, like … challenges and shit, y’know, you gotta get a lil’ raunchy—play into the sexy shit. But she’s … she the only girl I really felt myself … wanting to explore in that way.”

As he looks off in thought, no doubt about Sayori, he only feels his heart beat twice as fast.

“And it takes a lot for me to get there.” He shrugs. “I’on know, I’m just really excited to get to know her more now that we coupled up.”

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On the balcony’s daybed, there’s not much space. There’s just enough for her to sit on her knees with Ony’s spread legs.

And that’s the perfect position for him to see the fat of her hips and ass. His hand on his thigh clenches into a weak fist as he imagines feeling the soft flesh.

Looks like Onyankopon’s got hearts in ‘is eyes, too! Or he’s just noticing that his dental floss that went missing, is now on Sayori’s body.

She raises a brow in challenge. Onyankopon only remains stagnant in his disposition. That seems to be enough to sway her—not like she was putting up much of a fight, anyway.

A smile slowly spreads across her lips. Onyankopon’s competitive mask shatters as he mirrors her expression.

She makes a slow crawl towards him, careful not to step on any parts of his body that may be in the way. His hands start at her back the second she takes her seat on his lap, cradling her.

“I like you here better.”

She almost stutters.

Keep it cool, Sayori. Remember—English.

“S-sure,” she laughs.

The dazed and dreamy look in his eyes is enough to make her giggle harder. She tries to stop it with the kiss of her teeth, but of course it doesn’t work.

“Mmh,“ he hums.

“How are we?”

Smooth transition.

The gentle disruption of a wrinkle lies between his thick, perfect brows as he licks his lips. “I think we perfect.”

She hadn’t expected that. “Really?” she asks, her voice having grown soft.

“Course,” he mumbles, his gaze falling to her thighs on either side of his hips. “You don’t?”

As her brain conjures up a quick response, it’s just as quickly thrown away. His hands drop softly only her thighs to rub back and forth over them.

She would think that such hands—so big and heavy—would be able to ground her. Yet her senses run from her with every slow drag they make, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I do,” she replies—for lack of a better word—dumbly. Something about his touch is just draining her brain.

And if the unfocused look in her eyes is anything to go by, then he can definitely tell. When he smiles this time, his shallow dimples cave in and his perfect teeth are on full display.

That’s the first time I’ve ever seen Onyankopon smile that much. I usually give that look to a slice’a cheese cake from this one bakery down the road from me.

“Good.”

On a whim, Sayori leans forward and throws her arms over his shoulders. As much as she loves a good hug, she also loves that she’s able to hide her face in the crook of his neck.

“What’s the matter?” He asks after a minute, his soft voice obscured as their mics are muffled by the embrace.

Her lungs inflate and deflate with a gentle sigh. Thoughtlessly, he rakes his fingers back and forth over her spine.

“Nothing … just missed you after this morning.”

A soft chuckle shakes his chest. “Missed you, too.”

He seals the statement as he wraps his strong arms around her midsection to squeeze. The action pushes her up higher on his lap and her body closer to his.

Careful, Onyankopon, ya’ might break her.

He pulls back, if only to look up into her warm, brown eyes. Until his own drop to her lips.

“What?” She laughs.

And he can’t help but to smile. “Y’know what,” he mumbles, swiping at his bottom lip with his tongue.

She pushes it but an inch closer. “I don’t, tell me.”

There’s that burst of excitement again. “I wanna kiss you.”

‘So do it,’ she wants to say. But she’s smiling so hard her mouth can’t even form the words.

He gets the message anyway.

Their lips connect like opposing forces. Pillowy soft and full, both press and slide against each other with a slow firmness that only makes either want to push on.

They don’t hesitate to add tongue, they’ve gotten this far before. It’s nothing new for either of them, especially with the past challenges on the island.

However, this has got Sayori’s heart beating faster than any challenge or other guy on this island. And as this isn’t a game, there’s no need for Onyankopon to keep it cute for the audience.

His hands stretch and explore over the expanse of smooth, deep brown skin. Eyes closed, he doesn’t need to see to know where his hands are going.

A gasp, so tiny that it’s only picked up by their mics, slips from her. The gentle squeeze of her ass makes her pussy flutter in her bikini.

His tender touch is a quality Sayori found attractive since their first ever chat.

The soft, smacks of their wet kisses echo in the mics. Usually, she would pull back just to have a laugh at that, but they’re in too deep to stop now.

So deep, they don’t even acknowledge how their mics are also picking up the quiet moans sprinkled in there.

“Shit,” one of them whispers, neither of them can tell who it came from, minds hazy.

His sink deeper into the fat of her ass as he grasps tighter, unintentionally tugging her hips over his. The skimpy material of her bathing suit doesn’t ease the friction against her core at all.

She doesn’t want to think that he felt her clench, but she second-guesses the notion when he twitches beneath her.

Mindlessly, she grounds down against his growing hardness. His hips jump as he gasps against her lips, leaving her mouth free to venture elsewhere.

Elsewhere like down his neck. She kisses and laves at the warm, tattooed skin. One of her small, manicured hands slides up his stomach and chest to grip the side of his neck.

Relinquishing an ounce of self control, his hips stutter. He’s always liked a bit of choking with his kisses.

“Fuck … I wanna go to the beds right now.”

His breathless voice makes her pussy clench. It breaks her focus and she’s reminded that they’re out in the open.

Immediately, she tucks her face away to silence her own laughter. Ony throws his head back against the pillows with the release of a sigh.

After a couple of seconds, Sayori picks her head up to stare down at him, contemplating.

“Okay.”

The word is so soft-spoken, he almost doesn’t believe he really heard it. But once it clicks, he’s helping her to her feet while trying his best to adjust himself in his pool shorts.

Is it just me or has Onyankopon snuck a banana into his pants? Oh wait!

Stepping with caution and giggling like teenagers, Onyankopon and Sayori sneak around the villa to get to the bedroom unseen.

Mission successful.

CAMERA 02

And when they get there, they’re careful to shut the door softly behind themselves so as to not alert any of the others. Slipping into bed is all too easy.

Well aren’t these islanders lucky.

Their mics pick up their quiet giggles just before they’re muted by more heavy kissing. With Sayori on top and Onyankopon beneath, they move with more confidence, riding and sliding against one another.

Two weeks on the island already, and she can’t deny that she’s been dying for some sort of release.

All the cameras around and this newfound experience of communal living has kept her from really enjoying herself like she typically would back at home—a relaxing DJ session after a hard day at work or something.

It’s been way too long since she’s gotten the chance to do that. Even longer since she’s had sex.

“Wait, wait, wait—Ony’!”

His body locks up as his eyes grow wide, bouncing back and forth between her own. “What happened? You good?”

“I … I don’t know if I really wanna go all the way just yet.” She’s chewing on her bottom lip, absolutely wrecking the skin there.

“That’s—okay, alright,” he nods, almost breathless from the non-stop kissing and heat around them. “You wanna stop?”

She shakes her head. “Let’s just … do something else?” she asks softly, voice almost cracking within the confines of a whisper.

“Alright … what you wanna do?”

“I don’t know,” she laughs, covering her mouth with a hand.

He echoes her laughter before calming down.

“I got something in mind.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The hitch in her breath is almost violent.

His tip, solid and pulsing with a rush of blood, nudges her swollen clit. It’s a pleasant pressure that has her tense muscles relaxing and a soft sigh brushing past her lips.

“Yeaaah,” he drags out, holding his dick at its base as he continues to rub his wide crown against her button. “You like that?”

His voice is soft and pliant.

A bead of his precum drips out onto her clit, which he spreads with his tip. As her clit brushes against his slit, his lower stomach swoops.

The tiny touch makes his dick jump slightly. The head of his dick knocks against her prominent bud.

“Shit,” Sayori huffs. She angles her head to be able to watch it all, even as she’s bent in half.

She keeps her hands hooked at the crooks of her knees, painted toes curled.

He lifts his dick just to see the way her pussy constantly puckers around nothing. Such movement pushes dribbles of her own natural lubricant to bubble to the surface and drizzle from her tight pinkness.

It’s a thick pearlescent goo that he only wants to continue pulling out of her.

“Mmh … pussy so needy,” he mumbles to himself. He pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth.

Raising a hand, he comes smacking it back down on the underside of one of her thighs. A yelp, followed by a sweet giggle trickles out of her.

He smiles, lifting his dick and dropping it against her puffy lips.

Thwap … thwap … thwap.

The plump skin trembles every time.

“Shit so fat.”

Every time, clenches down at the weight of his dick and how it beats against her aching cunt.

“It’s so heavy, Ony,” she smiles dreamily at him.

Still holding onto himself at the base, he begins to drag his dick across her lips. Up, down. Up, down.

With every swipe, he presses his dick harder. Slowly, he sinks it between her deep, thick lips, just sliding back and forth, slowly. Tip always kissing her clit.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” she almost whines. Adjusting her hold, she places her dainty hands on each ass cheek to spread them wider.

“You want this heavy dick?”

“Yeah.”

He feels her pussy spurt against the underside of his tip as it catches over her clinching hole. His own precum bubbles out of the tip.

He drags their mixed arousal, spreading it so messily it’s got her pussy looking glazed. Shiny and plump.

It was a wonder how she walked around in those tiny ass bikini bottoms all day. He always tried not to look at her pussy print, but he just had to take a little peak every time.

Fuck, he wants to eat her.

Pushing back up against her clit, he zeroes in on the prominent bud as it sticks out between her pudgy lips. Just perfect. He wags his tip side-to-side, DJ-ing her with his dick, never lifting it up.

“Fuck … fuuuck…”

She clenches and unclenches, faster and stronger. Her clit jumps with the movement.

Sayori’s head falls back against the pillows as she pants. Her boobs spill to the sides of her body, nipples hard and at attention.

One of her hands leaves her ass to tweak at a nipple, rubbing and tugging at it. “Spit on it.”

And he does just as he’s told, dropping a thick wad of spit right on her clit. It dribbles down between her lips as she softly moans out.

“So fucking sexy,” he pants, trying to hold back as his lower stomach drops and his balls tighten. God, he doesn’t want this to end. “Need you to ride it.”

“Yeah?”

“Ride my shit.”

It’s a blur as they switch positions. Her on top and him on the bottom—just as before. And Onyankopon is almost breathless.

His dick is trapped between his stomach and her pussy. No penetration—he’s trying to keep his promise.

Fuck, he’s really trying. But the way her lips encase him in a wet, gooey hug that is so suffocating—it’s more than a struggle. He doesn’t want it to end, though.

“Onyy,” she whines as her clit is pressed against his stiff dick.

He’s so hard—the pulsing blood has engorged his veins, making them bulge against his skin. She can feel it all.

Her legs are quivering and she can’t even stop it, but that’s the least of her worries.

“Mmph—c’mon,” he grunts, gripping her ass cheeks to push her along the length of him.

The roll of her hips is jittery and unsteady, like she has to force herself to withstand the pleasure and not break.

She leaks endlessly over him, lathering him in frothy cream that makes her arousal audible.

“Yeah … yeah,” he whispers, pushing apart her lips to see how her clit smashes and rubs against him. “Keep going baby.”

He twitches and the arch in her back deepens.

The muscles in her thighs flex as she uses all her power to bounce against him.

Plop-squidge, plop-squidge, plop-squidge.

As her ass and pussy clap against him, small bits of milky white fly out and freckle his lower stomach and her pubic bone.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she whispers to herself, eyes rolling back shut.

“Shit … wanna nut in you so bad.”

He doesn’t even notice the pool of precum he makes against his stomach—all of her cream hides it anyway.

The bouncing slows just as she gets over his tip. He’s definitely the biggest she’s ever “taken.” As she sits on him, she almost fully sinks onto the thick, pulsing head.

His wide, mushroom tip is filled out and flushed a deep pink. And it feels so fucking good to her.

He’s almost sucked in fully … almost.

“So hard,” she croons.

Staring down at him with low eyes, she blindly reaches back to get a soft hold of his balls. A gentle squeeze.

A stuttered moan empties out of him and his body jolts.

Everything about him is just so heavy.

His balls are sticky, covered in milky glaze as if they were dipped. They slip around in her hands, making the feel of fondling them addicting.

“Keep doing that,” he hums, hips bucking up into her.

She only ruts back against him. With his tip still pressed to her quivering hole, she swivel her hips down roughly.

The sounds their bodies make grow louder; soft, wet suction as they constantly toes the line between humping and penetration.

“K-keep fucking me back … keep … fucking me—“

Onyankopon’s face contorts as his lower stomach is on fire.

“Ony—baby … shiiiit!”

Her body freezes as he continues to slide his dick against her beating clit. And a fountain spray of squirt splashes all over him.

In an attempt to stand up on her knees, her thighs tremble so much that he’s got to keep ahold of her hips to keep her from collapsing on top of him.

Her stream is wide and strong, beating down against his dick hard enough to push it back against his stomach.

Sayori’s mouth hangs open, eyes rolled back to the whites. He doesn’t think it gets any better than this. And honestly, the sight of her cumming so strongly is only making him harder—if that’s even possible.

Through her steadily weakening stream, he reaches for her clit and continues to rub. There’s another burst of squirt, the stream gaining strength once more.

With this release, he sinks his longest fingers into her weeping cunt to massage her g-spot, yanking her through this orgasm.

A manicured hand grips roughly at his shoulder, knuckles turning white.

“One more f’me.”

And when he fingers this third orgasm out of her, dollops of cream slip down his hand. That’s when he decides to give her a rest, laying her body on the bed.

But is it really much of a rest when he’s still got her face down, ass up?

Sayori’s a panting mess. Her eyes are barely open and yet she wiggling her ass back and forth, creamy pussy winking at him.

Ony takes his hard, sensitive dick in hand—hissing. “I’d fuck ya shit up if you let me in that,” he croaks.

He beats his dick softly, always one to draw out an orgasm. His balls aches just as bad as his dick does, and he gives them just a minor squeeze.

“Where you want me, baby?”

He palms one of her asscheeks, huffing out a bit of laughter when the muscle twitches.

“Cum on it,” she mumbles into the pillow, her mic still picking up her tiny voice.

“Cum on it?”

“Cum on your pussy, baby,” she whines out, arching her back even deeper.

“Say less.”

Letting go of his dick, it bounces in the air, twitching. Slowly, he inches forward until he’s sliding right in between her lips again.

“Close ya legs.”

Weakly, she complies, squeezing her thighs shut until she could feel his dick trapped between the tight space of her pussy lips and thighs. She doesn’t even have a thigh gap.

If she had to be honest, this has to be one of the best front-wedgies she’s ever had, if she could joke about it.

Hand poised in the middle of her lower back, he gives her steady strokes. Her cum provides the perfect amount of wetness, creating profound sounds. It’s all going smoothly, until he gets too caught up in it.

His tip catches just at her hole and he doesn’t realize until it’s too late—he’s slipped in. Immediately, he shivers as they both moan out. Sheathed in tight, wet, warmth, the head of his dick twitches. Reflexively, Sayori clamps down on him.

Onyankopon’s only warning is a clipped gasp.

His breath shudders and his stomach twitches. He’d had enough sense left in him to pull out, but not before the first ribbon of cum was shot into her pussy. It was only shallow—she’d pushed out the thick glob easily.

But that wasn’t end, as thick spurts of cum shoot out against her labia, clit and inner thighs.

“Aw … shit,” he pants, falling onto the bed.

They’re a shiny, sticky, panting, gooey mess. And they’re quiet as they try to catch their breaths for a moment.

“God … damn,” Onyankopon chuckles, throwing a hand over his face.

Sayori can only hum in agreement.

SAYORI, 23

A long sigh floats out over lifted cheeks and a too-bright smile. Sayori’s lashes flutter as she looks up at nothing in particular.

“Yeah … I’m definitely feeling him.”

ONYANKOPON, 25

Onyankopon can’t even look at the camera as he rubs his chin. Staring off into the distance, he mentally replays that time in the bedroom.

“Definitely a fucking keeper.”

As his eyes flit over to the camera, he bellows out a laughter.

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As the couple basks in the afterglow of steamy almost-sex, dazed smiles pull at their sheened faces.

“So fuckin’ nasty,” she whispers into his chest, a fit of giggles following shortly after.

Onyankopon only rolls his eyes, one hand rubbing at her back.

“Shut up.”

Yes, Sayori. So nasty, indeed. What naughty islanders.

Constant Bullshit

Pairing: R&B Singer Ebony x Producer Yoongi

Synopsis: Ebony has successfully made her name a household name in the world of R&B. Her disastrous relationships provide more than enough material to roll out several singles. Peep to learn more about the drama that surrounded the release of single, Constant Bullshit.

Ebony resulted back to a bad childhood habit of biting her nails. She watched as she watched the sound engineer hard at work. She's been in the studio longer than she originally planned, and she reserved for longer. Internally grateful another artist hasn't knocked on the door to claim their time.

It's been a little over six months since she posted on Instagram, eight months since she released any music, and two years since her last album. She's been off the grid. Taking her time to heal. Her last relationship delivered the knockout punch, telling her that she needs to sit her ass down somewhere. As her foul-mouthed grandmother would say.

Her last relationship with a B-list rapper had her outside of her character. Chasing down the girls he stepped out of the relationship with. Heavy consumption of alcohol. Sometimes, I was drunk or hungover for several weeks at a time. Lastly, allowing him to disrespect her body. Posting intimate, private images that the world's wandering eye had no business viewing. Strangers gawked at the most intimate parts of herself, leaving distasteful comments without a second thought. Stripping any source of humanity from her, making her a piece of meat for unwanted advances from sexless men. She promised to take a break from relationships and understand how to love herself.

"You're still here," Yoongi announced himself. Baseball cap low over his face, and mask over his lips. He took off his jacket, leaning over to place a gentle kiss on her cheek.

Yoongi, how could she have been so oblivious to the man forever in her corner. From being a producer under the record label to being her confidant. Watching Ebony scribble furiously in her lyric book at the many demeaning names she had lined up for all those who mistreated her. Not being judgemental for the times when she was weak, begging her ex to take her back. Apologizing for embarrassing him and overreacting. To speak to her in her love language; music.

Music healed her, transforming her months of bottled-up emotions into rythmic melodies that spoke her peace. She wouldn't have been able to do it without Yoongi. Naturally, feelings developed, but Ebony stuck to her guns, promising that they would go slow, that they would be friends and then lovers, and not try to piece together friendship in the middle of love. She was doing it right this time. She was doing herself right this time.

"Malik, is almost done."

"What track is it?"

"Constant BS."

"If I can add it, it's my favorite." Malik turned around, his silver durag peeking out from his hoody. The compliment put a smile on Ebony's face.

"I just hope my fans like it. It's not like my other projects."

Grasping Ebony's hand, Yoongi squeezed it for reassurance.

"They are gonna love it."

Ebony : constant bullshit out now

And her fans ate it up. One side was extremely hyped that their favorite R&B girly was back. On the other side, the song was perfect. Maybe it was coincidental timing, so many couples broke up before the song came out. Well, now there was a catchy anthem.

A week after Ebony released the song, she took more promotional images for the single. Tomorrow, she will shoot a music video. It's been a minute since she was this busy. Outlets seeking to interview her trying to discuss the song. But Ebony knew it would quickly turn into a conversation about her ex. A conversation she wasn't going to entertain. Especially after the temper tantrum he had a few days after the song's release.

Friday night, there was an R&B festival. Popular old and new R&B tracks were playing. Not even forty-eight hours after the song's release, the event's DJ played it. In a cross-faded rage, Ebony's ex stormed out of the event. Ebony wondered what got under his skin more. The fact that he naively thought he was going to have the last word or the idea that people were enjoying a song that dragged him.

Oh well.

Ebony and Yoongi were cuddled up on Yoongi's king-sized bed, watching several clips of his little tantrum surface on the internet. She was in her get-back era; neither he nor her other exs were safe. She had lists of songs in her arsenal whenever she could release them. She was gonna have the last laugh.

Best believe.

A/N: It's so good to be back 🙂‍↕️

What is it, the Braids?!

Pairing: Jungkook x Jennette

Synopsis: Jennette starts feeling herself with her new summer hair do.

Get it sexy.

Get it sexy.

Get it sexy.

Boy you know this ass super fat.

"I ain't lying, though." Jennette bounced excitedly in the driver's seat. Six long hours in the hair salon were finally over. It was summertime and it was perfect for her to get her favorite summer hairstyle. Boxbraids. Her trusty stylist was getting ready to have her baby, and Jennette knew she would be more than a little occupied.

Sexyy Red's smash hit was just the icing to the latest hairstyle. It was the perfect hype-song. Sun was out, Jennette had her rooftop done, speakers vibrating the car. She caught glances at herself in the rear view mirror.

Bustdown middle part and I got it black (I'm a big fine ho)

Walkin' through the club lookin' like a snack (but you knew that though)

The song was taking her back to her undergrad years. Jennette wouldn't label herself as 'ho' or anything. But she definitely participated in hoodrat activities more than once, wearing low-waisted jeans and getting her belly button pierced after one night of too many shots. Getting pulled into the center of twerk circle, throwing it back flawlessly on her friends. Never tying herself down so she could flirt shamelessly with the different guys on and off campus.

Maybe it was a good thing, this song didn't come out a decade ago. Pulling up at a stop light, Jennette adjusted her braids, looking over at the car beside her. Two young men, probably college students themselves. The one is the passenger initiated a friendly wave.

Jennette returned the favor. Her body still grooving to the music. Looking at her playlist for another hype song to add to the queue. The same passenger made a 'call me' motion, doing his best to silently flirt.

Jennette shook her head no, pressing her foot on the gas. Driving to her familiar neighborhood. Driving slowly to her house, she saw Peanut chasing her dad in in the freshly cut grass. Quickly her little legs stopped chasing as she watched the familiar sedan park.

Jennette, still feeling the music, locked the car door before stooping low and opening her arms. Regaining her speed, Peanut collided her body into her mother's arms. Littering her face in kisses, Jennette bounced the toddler.

Joining his family Jungkook kissed Jennette on her forehead, avoiding the freshly laid baby hairs.

"You look good."

"I know." Jennette posed, twisting her hips to look behind her. Doing a gentle shake of her hips. The tips of her braids swaying past the crack of her behind.

"This might be one of my favorite looks." Jennette put down Peanut. She's been so used to having her hair in its signature twist-out that she almost forgot how much she loved braids. All she had to do was slip on her satin scarf and bonnet and sleep peacefully. A temporary break from her frequently twisting sessions.

"It definitely brings out a new side of you."

"You like it?" Jennette flirted her acrylic nail in the corner of her mouth.

"Abso-fucking-tly" Scooping her up in his arms, Jennette instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. Carrying her, Jungkook walked back over to where Peanut was playing.

Reunion

Pairing: Hoseok x Nala

Author Note: Nala is a plus-sized woman. So while there is no fc plus sized women will be selected to show outfits. Also she's dyed her hair a ginger color. So yeah :)

Club Carnival did not disappoint. The music was catchy, rotating between hip-hop and reggaeton. The vibrations could be felt outside when Hoseok was handing his keys to the valet. The exterior was upscale. Red carpet, security carrying firearms, and who looked sharp in their crisp suits. Hoseok flashed his ID before the two men parted, allowing him to enter.

Hoseok noticed the sweet smell in the air. Most clubs he went to had a pungent smell of must. He was pleased. It was clean, another check in his mind.

Hoseok, nicknamed Jay by many celebrity friends, was among the expected guests of honor. Hoseok a game changer in the fashion industry. Four years ago, he launched a clothing line that rivaled many other luxury brands like Gucci, YSL, and Prada. He was a businessman looking for new ventures to invest his money into. The entertainment business was lucrative and showed signs of paying off. But he had a philosophy. Before signing any checks, he had to ensure the venue met his standards. He had to trust management and trust that they can manage a club. As anything attached to his name, he saw himself liable for.

Hoseok is a thorough man who gained lots of respect for it. He exchanged brief pleasantries with the friends he spotted. He hoped to find Seokjin, the man he spoke to on the phone. Hosoek stood on the edge of the bar. He sent a quick text to Seokjin, letting him know he arrived.

From a distance, Hosoek knew his sense of style made him appear standoffish. He frequently wore dark shades that hid his eyes, often wearing muted colors, and rarely smiling in pictures. Nevertheless, those who truly knew the man knew he was approachable. Willing to always assist those in need. Taking a look around, I observed the clubgoers. Many in cocktail attire, dancing freely. The dance floor was spacious and far enough from the bar to not feel overstimulated. Even standing on the bar's edge, he could hear the bartender take an order from a customer. It was genius.

Seokjin: Thank you for waiting. I'm stuck in traffic and will be late.

A grunt slipped out of Hoseok's mouth. He read the message, shaking his head. Tardy manager? Hoseok remembered that little fact in the back of his mind. Now, since he was playing the waiting game, he supposed he could divulge in the club atmosphere. After all, it was a Friday night, a typical way for young adults to let off some steam.

Ordering a strong whiskey beverage, Hosoek sipped, swaying to the music. The song was a classic throwback. A song from his b-boy days in high school. His muscles remembered every movement of choreography. Dance was his first love. A talent that he wished he discovered much earlier. Who knew where he would end up if he devoted the same hours to his clothing brand, to a dance studio. Hmm. Maybe even becoming one of the greatest dancers in the world. Wishful thinking. He finished off his drink, returning his glass to the pair. Rolling up his cuff links to dance when he saw a woman in the corner. She stood alone, her back facing to him. She occasionally turned, showing half of her face. Her mouth moving a mile a minute, Hoseok could tell alone by her body language that she was not in a good mood. Maybe the strong whiskey wasn't in his blood stream right now he would have migrated tot he dancefloor. But the little voice in his head was compelling him to go over.

"Is everything alright?" He spoke clearly, trying not to startle the woman.

Her slicked-back donut bun sat perfectly on top of her head. Wavy pieces shaped her face, dangling beside her lips. She nodded her head at Hoseok.

"Okay, just get here as soon as possible." She sounded defeated before hanging up the phone.

"Yes, I am, thank you." She said, looking into her bag and shuffling around in it. The woman in front of him missed his taken-aback 'shocked face'.

"Nala?"

"Whose asking?" That caused her head to pop up. Her face mirrored Hoseok.

"Hoseok? Oh my goodness! So good to see you." She embraced the taller man in a hug. Breaking out of the hug, she looked Hoseok up and down.

"And you look good."

Hosoek smiled, returning the compliment. Nala also had a good sense of fashion. She could always follow trends yet maintain her own identity, never truly 'copying' someone else. Even six years later, that part about her stayed the same.

"I knew the ginger hair was familiar."

"Oh, you know me, if it ain't broke, don't fix it." She smoothed down the bun. Her stressful phone call was now forgotten. Hosoek was a pleasant and well-welcome distraction.

"Are you busy? I-"

"No. Nope, not busy." Taking her arms in his, she walked Hosoek toward a private section. Laughing at her eagerness, Hoseok allowed Nala to lead him to a section in the club. The area was in a well lit spot in the club. Not toward the discarded hooka smoke, but with a second-floor view of the dancers below.

"Soooo what have you been up to?"

The conversation between them flowed naturally. The six years of no talking didn't make it feel awkward or stale. Nala was charismatic, witty, and most importantly herself.

"It was humbling having to move back home. I tried to stay in the city longer, but jobs weren't hiring. So I started working as a secretary at a medium-sized record label. Hours weren't great, but the money was good so I couldn't complain.

One random day, I was delivering a stack of contracts for my boss to sign when I saw my neighbor in the office signing some papers as well."

"Your neighbor."

"Yeah him." Nala looked around the club, before pointing at the brown-skinned man with blonde locks. He was standing at the center of the floor, rapping. A shiny chain around his neck.

"Lil durk is your neighbor?"

"When we were kids. He was just as surprised to see me. He gave me his business card for his record label, he was looking for someone to manage his friend Von and it was kinda history ever since. With much better pay too."

"Good looking out." Hosoek looked back in the direction of the rapper. Another rapper stood beside him with locs, slightly taller than Durk. He was interacting with the crowd, holding the hand of a female fan. In a similar fashion, a chunky chain with a large 'O' around his neck.

Seokjin: I apologize again. I'm five minutes out.

The notification reminded Hoseok he wasn't visiting this club for leisure fun. He was here to network and expand his business partners.

"Do you have to go soon?" Nala questioned, picking up on the minor shift in Hoseok's mood.

"Yeah, I'm supposed to meet with this Seokjin guy about potentially getting into the clubbing business."

"Oh you're gonna like Jinnie. He's sweet, corny, but sweet."

Nala stood up, and Hoseok followed suit. "May I have your number?" Hosoek asked. He peered over the second floor to see Seokjin enter the club's doors.

"Yes! And let's take a picture, too. I'm glad I saw you." Hoseok, slightly bent down, got in frame. He used his signature 'no smile' pose. Nala snapped several pictures.

"Okay, now don't let six more years go by before we hang out again." Nala joked but was very serious. She would put more effort into ensuring that they would keep in touch, no matter how far either of their work took them.

"You have my word."

Imagine:

The reader finding out she is pregnant so she tries to leave but Erik finds out anyway.

Her eyes watered instantly and a loud scream escaped her mouth. The scream made her throat burn and her fingers tremble, dropping the pregnancy test within her hand. The plastic clattered against the bathroom floor, the positive sign unseen because it flipped from the impact. Her shaking hands circles the belly that now carried an embryo, fingers balling up the fabric so hard it almost ripped.

Her hot tears dragged along her cheeks like a stream from a lake, soaking her t shirt. With a shake of her head and a choked up cry, Y/N lowers to the bathroom floor, knees hitting the tile and head resting against the sink cabinets. The news hit different, the type of different that had her upset and angry with herself.

Just that one time, she ends up pregnant.

She remembers the time like the back of her hand. It was a late Friday evening, She hadn’t expected him because he would come and go whenever he pleased and the gullible person she was she would open her home to him, give him what he craved, and watch him leave to whatever part of the world he ended up. Spain. Iraq. Russia. Brazil. It didn’t matter where. He could be there for months but with her for two days.

How could she raise a baby with a man who didn’t even claim her as his woman? He didn’t believe in that soulmate shit and refused to be tied down so why even raise a baby? Usually they had sex unprotected but Y/N hadn’t seen him in over three months so she stopped taking them. The late night she wakes up from her sleep around 10:00 pm to open her door, he stands over her, dark circles under his eyes from exhaustion, two large duffel bags in hand that carried all of his gear from being a Hitman, and all black camouflage gear on like he was a man of the night.

She couldn’t even be angry with him, all the rage she felt slipped away once he looked at her like he’d be seeing her for the last time. He looked down at his boots, the sight of her just as painful as what he told her.

“Blaze, he’s dead.”

Blaze was his trusted friend from the JSOC Ghost Unit. Blaze was the only man he had grown to trust with his own life. Blaze was set up and tortured to death in Morocco. She didn’t want to do anything else but comfort him in that moment. He melted in her arms as she pulled him into that home. From there she undressed him, ran him a bath and wash his scarred body. It wasn’t just the keloid scars but scars from knife wounds and possibly gun shot too. The Brand on his chest from his old Kappa days held a warm spot in her heart because that let her know that at least some part of his earlier life he enjoyed with a true brother hood.

All of that turned into passionate sex. Deep, raw wet, rough, slow. Hours long of sex. Sex that she craved times before. A connection that Y/N yearned for. He gave that to her, in every which way. But the sad part, he was gone the next morning, leaving her crying in her bed.

“I hate him,” She whispers in pain, “I hate his every being.”

That sex was at least almost three months ago.

Y/N hoped he wouldn’t show up soon, she needed to leave without a trace to hopefully figure out how to handle her unexpected pregnancy. The thought of raising a baby by a man like Killmonger wasn’t something to praise. The baby of a killer. A man with no heart. A selfish man. Thinking quickly, Y/N sprang from her kneeled position, stepping over her pregnancy test and heading straight for her bedroom. Erik wouldn’t know that her sister who lived in Florida moved back to LA. Y/N figured she could lay low there for a bit, hoping that Erik would come knocking down her door and she wouldn’t be around to respond. She packed about five outfits, electronics, toiletries, and her favorite blanket. She was out that door in about an hour, locking it behind her and never looking back.

Too bad she forgot the pregnancy test on the floor.

Around 48 hours later, Erik Killmonger Stevens shows up at her door. He sat within his mustang for a good hour contemplating if he should even go in there to see her. The way he left her last time would sure make the sight of him put her into a rage. He taps the stirring wheel to some random rhythm, eyes focused on her apartment complex. Fuck it, he could only hope to explain to her why he left and why he always has to leave without a trace of her. His job was dangerous and he didn’t need for anyone to find out about his happiness outside of being a killer. Erik turns off his car, pocketing his keys within his denim jacket, making his walk of shame towards her complex.

Once on her floor, Erik stands outside of her door, staring at the brass knob and black door with fading numbers saying “7B” just above the peep hole. His scarred knuckles knocked twice, a pause in between so she would know it was him. Erik waits, heart beat thumping so hard he could almost feel it in his legs. Erik tried again, no response to his knocks. They had an agreement that she would be there around this time for him. She worked from him and did mostly everything from home so why isn’t she answering.

Erik became worried, his hands reaching into his pocket again to pull out his key ring. She didn’t know that he made a spare key to enter if need be. This situation called for it. Erik takes the key, happy that the locks didn’t change. The door opens and a sudden heat overcomes him. Her apartment that usually flowed with fresh cool air now felt musky to him. Erik steps inside, looking around for any clues of intrusion. Eyes like a hawk he looks behind every piece of furniture and in every corner. The entire living room, dining room, and kitchen were safe, only leaving him with the bedrooms and bathroom. Taking out his pistol, Erik walks slowly to the back, ready to catch anyone who tried to hurt his girl.

Kicking open her bedroom door, Erik flips the light on, her cat jumping down from the bed and everything else safe. To be sure, Erik opens her closet and looks under her bed. Nothing. Picking up her cat he leaves the room to check the guest room. That room brought back memories. When they first met eachother and Erik needed a place to come to he would sleep in there. The place was only filled with some of his clothes and shoes, and boxes with a large floor mattress. Closing it, the only place left was the restroom. At this point Erik figured no one was here but he still felt a way about her not being here. Pushing open the bathroom door and flicking on the light, Erik looks around the small bathroom, stepping in further until his left boot made contact with something on the tiled floor. Dropping her cat and stepping back, Erik notices a pregnancy test. His heart sank, fingers quickly reaching down to pick it up. The moment he flipped it over to read his shame and guilt settled in further. He felt like he wanted to break down, legs no longer holding his strength anymore.

Y/N was pregnant with his baby.

She must have found out and panicked, leaving to a friends or a families house to avoid him because she knew Erik would be home soon. This raged him, his hand squeezing the test so hard it broke in half. Tossing the pieces in the trash Erik placed his hands on the sink, looking in the mirror. He tried to think of where she would go. Not many friends lived here. Her sister was in Florida. It had to be somewhere she could have gone. In the distance, Erik heard a car pull up. To be sure he walks to her living room, opening the window curtain to see who it was. A red Honda pulls up, Erik’s eyes squinting until he notices her solem face and her sisters. So she was back in California. Erik watches as she tried to step out but the moment she notices Erik’s car parked next to hers, she freezes, eyes in a panick. Erik quickly rushes out of the apartment, hoping that he could catch her before her sister drives away. He needed her, she couldn’t just leave with his baby growing inside of her. He ran for his life, jumping down flights of stairs.

Now on the first level, Erik pushes open the door, spotting her arguing with her sister before their eyes connect. The color drained from her face, tears soaking her cheeks. Erik takes quick steps to her but her sister saw that as a threat, pointing a gun at him.

“Take one more step and I’ll kill you!!!” She held her gun out, pointing to his head.

“Y/N, get out of the car. I know what’s going on. We can talk about the shit!” Erik yells. Y/N sat facing forward, no emotion in her eyes.

“Y/N!!! TALK TO ME!” Erik was angry and ready to flip that car over and get her out himself.

“You’re not leaving me. That’s my baby in there, girl. You’re not running away from this, Y/N,”

He stepped closer, not caring that her sister yelled out threats. She didn’t look like she would try him anyway. Erik steps around to Y/N’s side, crouching down and knocking on her window to let it down. She continues to cry, not meeting his eyes. Erik pulls the door handle roughly, banging on the glass hard.

“Open this fucking door Y/N!!!!” He barks out. She jumps. Erik steps away, hands in his dreads ready to rip them out.

“GET AWAY FROM MY FUCKING CAR!!” Her sister yells into the night sky.

Erik knew he needed to be calm. But it angered him that she would just leave with his baby. He understood her rage, Erik was never around but that didn’t mean she could make the decision for him about her pregnancy.

“It’s my body, Erik,” she finally speaks.

Yes, it is her body, but the thought of her getting an abortion or giving the baby up for adoption sickened him.

“Y/N, don’t do this. Don’t get rid of the baby.”

She looked at him with shock and hurt, “get rid of the baby?!!! I would never do that!!! I am going to keep this baby but I can’t stand my baby being your child!!! You are never around and you have blood on your hands!!!”

He didn’t argue back. She was right, Erik never wanted this kind of life. He could never see himself with a baby and a wife. That was non existent when you were a killer. Erik fought to cry himself, her words cutting deep like a dagger to the heart but it was true. He wasn’t in the right mind and position to father that child.

“You’re right,” he finally speaks, “I’m not the perfect man you want me to be, Y/N.” Erik turns away, rubbing his eyes before looking back at her, “but I can try, I can try to be I sware.”

She wanted to believe him but she knew that he was in this too deep.

“I can’t believe that, Erik. You have left me so many times with a broken heart. How am I supposed to believe you will be here now.”

He couldn’t even find it within himself to answer that. She waited, and he said nothing.

“Drive the car.” Y/N’s shaky voice broke out in their silence. Her sister started up the car. Erik watched with pain as it drove away and out of the lot, his rage kicking up as he yelled into the air. He was no man for a baby and a life with Y/N but he wanted to try, a part of him did.