Jacky Vincent Imagines

Christmas Dirty Imagine

(Y/N) watches the night-time skyline with drooping eyes, hands wrapped firmly around the coffee mug in her palms to gain some warmth. Her nails dug uselessly against the porcelain and she caught her lower lip in between her teeth.

Beside her everything sat in its place. The tree was glinting restlessly with tinsel and fairy lights, matching the Christmas time merriment plastered around the entire living room. Only one thing was missing - the presents to perch at the base of all her hard work. She sent her husband out four hours ago to gather them from Ryan’s house and there was still no sign of him. Where could he have gone?

She ran her spare hand through her red hair and dumped her half-drank mug down against the coffee table. Their three-year-old cherub of a son, Jeremiah, had been filled to the brim with excitement these past few days leading up to Christmas time and he would be absolutely crushed if he knew that ‘Santa’ was going to be late.

Right now, as she pulled her mobile from her back pocket, she could murder Jacky.

As soon as she thumbed over the speed-dial key a familiar giggle resounded from the entrance of their large abode. Jacky stumbled into the room with a hazy, glazed-over look in his once so bright eyes.

He hiccupped as a form of less than elegant greeting and outstretched his empty arms. “(Y/N)!”

(Y/N) pushed her lover away from him, trying to keep her snarl in place even as the boy whimpered a squeaking coo of distaste. The smell of whiskey was ripe on his tongue; she could smell it even from the distance. And that fact made her blood boil.

"Don’t ‘(Y/N)’ me, Jacky. What time do you call this? I asked you to pick up the presents from Ryan’s house not steal all his alcohol. You could’ve woken poor Jeremiah up and he needs all the sleep he can get. And what’s more - where are the presents, huh? If you say you forgot them Jacky Casey Vincent so fucking help me.”

He tipped his head to the side, a dark curtain of hair falling in front of his eyes, before he stood unsteadily to his feet, “Hey, sugar, relax.”

She huffed through her nose in response.

Swaying to an unknown beat, Jacky relished the opportunity to cup at (Y/N)’s warm hips. This time she didn’t fight him off. His breath was wickedly hot as it skimmed across her fine features and despite the anger brewing in her stomach she wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

"Jacky, don’t. I’m mad at you right now."

"Why baby?" He fluttered his long lashes at her, deliberately intent. "I’m sorry, I just wanted a little bit of fun. And I could be having some more... if you know what I mean."

He slid his lips down across the slope of her elegant neck, taking pride in how she shivered helplessly beneath him. With the flick of his talented tongue across her exposed nape every tight thread of anger she held in her chest suddenly came undone.

Her hands dug into his hair and then they were kissing furiously. Damn Jacky and his perfect goddamn mouth. Damn how his tongue worked so effortlessly against her own. Damn how those skilful hands managed to peel away her clothing with the flick of an ivory wrist. And damn how fucking badly she wanted him right then and there.

He pressed his naked body against her own and then stumbled down freely against the sofa in a collision of warm flesh and tangling limbs. He closed his flushed mouth across her collarbones and sucked with untamed fervor until it blossomed blue and purple.

"Don’t be mad at me, babyyyy. Not when I’m so horny for you."

Fucking Jacky Vincent and his mouth.

(Y/N) opened her mouth in a sharp, wicked retort before the sound became warped around a high moan when he buried his length deep inside her. Her stomach lurched, head falling back in a flash of fiery-red locks, and she gripped onto his shoulders for dear life.

"Oh you bastard."

Jacky chuckled around the juncture of her throat, licking and slurping in bittersweet tandem with the movement of his hips. Despite how obviously aggravated she had become; her slick heat fit him like an absolute glove. She quivered restlessly around him, bucking and screaming out her own song of absolute pleasure. He bit at her bottom lip, swift and light and with only a slight twinge of pain

"C-Careful, baby, you don’t want to wake Jeremiah,"

(Y/N)’s (Y/E/C) eyes sparkled beneath her lover, and for the first time that night she saw the return of her caring, husband and the wonderful father she fell so desperately for. She sought out the explicit cling of his pink mouth and moaned unbidden into the cushion of his tongue. With every slight push of his hips he slammed impossibly deeper and struck white-hot points inside her walls that even she was surprised to discover.

"I-I’m close!" She whined, nipping her teeth across his shoulder.

He whistled through his nose in response, and with a wordless cry, his body stilled to allow for his release. He spilled inside her and the sensation was more than enough to bring her through the whirlpool of her own deep, buzzing orgasm.

He draped across her torso, spent and a dead weight. (Y/N) fought to regain her breath back to normality and even in his drunken-haze Jacky allowed himself to swell up with pride.

"If you think this makes up for forgetting Jeremiah’s presents you’re sorely mistaken, Mister." She scolded, curling closer into his throat and peppering kisses down the tattooed skin.

He looped his fingertips through her own and chuckled feebly, “I know. We’ll take him out tomorrow for a day of three-year-old fun. Theme parks galore. Disneyland, even.”

(Y/N) thought of her son’s face bright with excitement, clinging to his childhood with eyes as bright as his father’s and puffy cheeks filled to the brim with glory. It was an excellent image and an even better way to make up for a few forgotten toys.

"That’s more like it, Vincent."

Little did the couple realize that it would not be long before they were bringing their second child to Disneyland. (Y/N) decided she could keep that secret for a while longer.