Jacky Vincent Imagines

You Should Get The Next Size Up

"I can’t believe you just said that to me!" You were fuming with anger, flames burning within your eyes and hands on your hips. Every inch of your body felt hot; you could punch him right there and then.

Your boyfriend threw his hands up in exasperation. “What’re you even talking about? I just said-“

"Oh, I know what you said, asshole. You called me fat!"

His blood was beginning to boil, fists curling at his sides and jaw tensing. “No I fucking didn’t. I never called you anything close to fat. You asked if I liked your new dress so I fucking told you the truth. Don’t blame me if you can’t handle it.”

"I can handle the fucking truth, Jacky! But you don’t hold the right to call me FAT."

A thin strand of tension snapped inside of him and he was pinning you to the wall with a red mist blocking his sight. His lips pulled back over a snarl. “I NEVER called you FAT!” His long fingers circled around your wrists and pinned them down on either side of your flushed face. The grip was tight enough to make your pulse ache. “All I fucking said that the dress would look better a size bigger. One measly size bigger.”

He pulled back a mere inch before slamming you back into the wall once more, strong hips keeping your own in place. You growled right in his face. The dominating position and how he held you captive was doing wonders to your hormones but you tried to push past it. Right now the last thing on your mind should be sex.

"Get the fuck off me. You fucking bastard."

But he simply smirked, making a show of licking his lips. “Shut the fuck up.”

His mouth was slamming against your own in a bruising kiss, sucking and biting at your lower lip until it throbbed with pain. His thigh wormed its way between your own, keeping your legs open and the friction of rough denim against the silk of your ‘too-tight’ dress to slip above your hips.

He nudged at your jaw with his nose in a sharp flick, forcefully craning your neck to the side. The skin looked heavenly soft to the touch and glinting with a light sheen of sweat and he couldn’t resist any longer. He arched his mouth down and bit the sensitive skin until it was mottled with black bruises. His territory was marked.

"I’m going to fuck you," He growled into your flesh. "I’m going to fuck you nice and hard until you’re screaming my fucking name. You understand?"

Your entire body was screaming with pleasure, blood thrumming through your body so fast it made your head spin. This side of your lover was something that very rarely showed up. And when it did? Lord have mercy on your pussy.

"No, get the fuck off me," You wriggled your wrists in his tight grasp but the effort was minimal. He always gave as good as he got if he thought there was going to be a fight.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and used it as leverage to pluck you off the wall. “Oh, is that so? Well I always get what I want.” There was a venomous glint in his once so soft baby-blue eyes and with how he gripped your arm hard enough to leave bruises and helped ‘guide’ you upstairs you knew that fact couldn’t be more true.

-

As soon as you where thrown on the bed everything became a blur of rustling clothes and skin-on-skin. His mouth closed over the swell of your heaving breasts, tongue trailing around the bumps of your nipples until you were positively trembling. The act was surprisingly tender, and, realizing this, Jacky was swift to part your legs and go down on you noisily.

He pulled your clit between his teeth and slurped down on it. His tongue delved between your folds and lapped deep inside until you were desperate for more penetration. “O-Oh god! Please baby, ugh!”

His lips gleamed with your own juices when he pulled back and smirked mischievously. “I’ll only fuck you if you admit you were wrong.”

You tipped your head back, hips humping the air with utmost need. “Alright, I’m sorry! I was wrong! Just, ugh, please!”

Those words were like music to his ears, fuelling his ego, and without another word he forced every inch of himself inside your tight entrance. His thrusts were fast and deep, striking all those points inside of you that made your walls contract and your moans hitch. Your nails dug deep indents to the flesh of his back, trailing lower and lower in explicit streaks.

His teeth pulled at your lower lip with his own moans pulling from his lungs. He spanked at your thigh with a malicious laugh and craned his neck right back. Beads of sweat clung to his adam’s apple and stars erupted behind his eyes.

All too soon the pleasure began to take over. Every one of your nerve-endings was aflame with ecstasy and your orgasm tore right through you. You screamed his name at the top of your lungs and spasmed when his own release spilled inside of you.

With skin glistening with sweat and breaths like ragged sandpaper, you moulded into each other’s bodies as you had done countless times before. His fingertips twisted within your own and he kissed your forehead in a surprisingly tender action. All was well once again. Until;

"I still think you should get the dress a size up."