Imagines of our favorite rapper that everybody is obsessed with. For the Black girls!
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trigger warning: mild sexual content ahead (making out, rubbing, and some other semi-vanilla shit)
Y/N rubbed her hips against his core. She moaned into his mouth as he rubbed her butt squeezing it gently.
"Oh baby, I missed you." She said as he kissed her neck.
His voice sent vibrations through her body, "I missed you."
Oakley had just come back from a press tour. Y/N was currently living in Miami and he made sure to visit her. The only thing illuminating the room was the television hanging on the wall in the living room.
Y/N leaned back to look at him, "I'm sorry I didn't mean to just jump on you. How was the tour?"
He shook his head angling her neck so he could continue to kiss her. He felt her heart rate jump as he moved to kiss her lips, "Same old stuff. I don't wanna talk about that though."
She smirked, "And what do you want to talk about?"
Oakley sent her a smile, "Nothing."
Y/N continued to kiss him. She sat on his lap kissing him sweetly. Their lips touched every other second. Sometimes allowing for some tongue play. It was nothing sexual, just the two of them making out like loose teenagers.
Y/N pulled his shirt off wanting closer contact. He rubbed her back smoothing out the wrinkles in her shirt. In one motion he tugged it off and sucked her breast.
Y/N pulled on his hair wanting to kiss him more. His eyes searched hers, "Getting a little bit kinky, don't you think?"
Y/N smiled innocently, "You know you like it."
She went back to kissing him. Y/N rocked her hips roughly. The intimate moment turned even more lustful. Oakley pulled away with swollen lips, "You've done this before haven't you?"
