KISS IT, KISS IT BETTER, BABY
married! jaafar jackson x nanny! reader
synopsis — things are heating up. everyone’s getting suspicious of what’s going on around the house and Jaafar has to finally ask himself, what’s he willing to do to keep you around?
content — toxic relationship, slight angst, cheating, readers manipulative, smut, p in v, missionary, mating press, maddie goes bye bye
Rooms in the Jackson home had never felt more suffocating.
Maddie was around more frequently now, her corporate meetings shifted to her home office out of a quiet, creeping suspicion she couldn't quite name—or didn’t want to. Yet, despite the tension around the house, you didn't break.
On the outside, you still remained the flawless, sweet, and effortless nanny. Smiling warmly when Maddie walked into the kitchen. You carried their son on your hip with ease. You were completely composed, the picture perfect image of hired help who knew to stay in her place.
But behind your calm eyes, your thoughts were sharp, calculating, and entirely aware of the toxic current vibrating through the walls. You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew this was a dangerous game, and you knew exactly how to play it.
I mean, it wasn’t your fault he liked you more. And the evidence of that was so painfully true.
Maddie was determined to bridge the unspoken canyon stretching between her and her husband. In the quiet dark of their room, she slid under the heavy duvet, her manicured hands gliding up Jaafar’s bare chest. She kissed his jaw softly, whispering low, desperate reassurances, entirely convinced that she was successfully pillow talking her man back into her arms. Jaafar didn't push her away of course, because do so would confirm her worst fears, so he closed his eyes and forced his body to go through the motions.
He rolled her onto her back, but the moment he slid inside her, a wave of profound, physical rejection hit him like a physical blow.
It was completely hollow. It was mechanical, a hurtful performance of marital obligation that made his stomach turn. Every single touch felt wrong. As he moved above his wife, his mind became an agonizing loop of you. He began comparing everything in real time, his thoughts spinning out of control. Maddie’s skin felt cold and distant compared to your burning, electric heat. Her routine, predictable whimpers felt entirely lifeless compared to the raw, undone, desperate noises you made when he held you down. You were a rush of adrenaline; Maddie simply felt like a chore.
Halfway through, Jaafar’s body literally began to reject the act. His heart hammered in panic as he felt himself softening inside her, his body refusing to cooperate with a woman he no longer desired. He pulled out abruptly, rolling onto his back with a ragged, strained breath.
"Jaafar? What's wrong?" Maddie whispered in the dark, her hand resting on his shoulder.
"I'm just exhausted, love," he lied smoothly, his voice deep and choked as he stared at the ceiling, swallowing the bitter taste of guilt. "The rehearsal’s this week... my head is spinning. I'm sorry."
Maddie sighed softly, pulling the sheets up and turning onto her side, completely blind to the truth. She thought he was just stressed. She had no idea that her husband’s body had been practically rewired by this point—that he was now a man who could only function if it was you he was tasting.
He didn't wait for her to say anything. He pulled on a pair of loose sweats and left the room, his throat parched, his skin crawling with the phantom scent of a marriage that had died months ago.
He descended the grand staircase, his heavy footsteps silent on the marble, heading toward the kitchen for a drink to wash the sterile taste from his mouth. But when he turned the corner, he froze.
You were sitting on the edge of the marble island.
The kitchen was bathed in the low, amber glow of the under cabinet lighting. You were wearing nothing but an oversized white tshirt—one of his shirts that you’d quietly stolen from the laundry weeks ago—and your bare legs swung lazily against the dark cabinetry. You were slowly sipping on a glass of wine, holding your phone in your other hand, mindlessly scrolling and looking entirely serene.
Jaafar’s breath hitched in his throat. The stark contrast of leaving his wife’s bed only to find you looking like a sinful dream in his own clothing sent a wave of pure fire straight though his stomach and to his cock.
"You're up late, Mr. Jackson," you murmured, your voice a low, smooth purr that cut through the quiet room. You looked at him over the rim of your glass, your eyes wide, clear, and entirely aware of the wreck he was.
Jaafar closed the distance between you in heavy strides, his large hands sliding onto the marble on either side of your thighs, trapping you. His face was flushed, his dark eyes boring into yours with a starved intensity.
"What’re you doing down here, Y/N?" he rasped, his breath hot against your face. "In my shirt. Looking like this."
You set your glass down with a soft clink, moving to gently trace the tense line of his jaw. You caught the faint, lingering scent of Maddie’s perfume on his skin, and your eyes darkened with a cold, lazy satisfaction.
"I could ask you the same thing," you whispered, your thumb brushing over his lower lip. "You smell like her. But you look... frustrated. Did it not go well upstairs?"
Jaafar swallowed hard, his jaw clenching under your touch until it ached. Your bluntness was a heavy, intoxicating drug. He hated how easily you read him, how completely you owned his entire being. "Don't play with me tonight," he growled low in his throat. "M'not in the mood."
"Oh, I think you are," you smiled softly, a tiny, sinful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. You slid your bare legs around his waist, pulling his heavy frame flush against the island, letting you feel the exact moment his dick hardened instantly through his sweatpants against your panties. "Your body doesn't lie to me, Jaafar. Go back to your wife. But we both know you can't finish unless it's me." You say, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before hopping off the counter and retreating to your room.
The static from that midnight confrontation carried straight into the weekend, turning a casual family dinner into a very high stakes psychological war zone.
Jaafar’s brothers, Randy Jr., and Jermajesty had come over, filling the vast dining room with their loud, easy banter. But the air around the table felt entirely deprived of oxygen.
Maddie sat at the head, her eyes hyper focused, her gaze tracking your every movement like a hawk as you served the food. You moved gracefully, completely unbothered on the outside, a perfect nanny.
Randy Jr., the perceptive big brother he is, leaned back in his chair, his eyes darting from Jaafar’s tight, unreadable face to the way his knuckles turned white on his fork every time your dress brushed past his shoulder. Jermajesty, meanwhile, kept tracking your quiet, guarded expression.
The second dinner ended, the brothers splintered, and the interrogation began.
Randy Jr. caught Jaafar in the dim pool room, closing the door behind them. He slammed his cue stick onto the green felt, looking directly at his younger brother.
"What the hell is the vibe in this house, Jaaf?" Randy asked bluntly, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "Between you and Maddie something’s off. And the way you look at that girl... is there something going on?"
Jaafar didn't blink. He picked up a cube of blue chalk, slowly coating the tip of his cue with a calculated, corporate coldness. "Maddie’s….stressed about work. And the nanny is just the nanny, Randy. You're reading too into it. Drop it."
The lie was flawless, deadpan, and entirely dead. Jaafar didn't let a single crack show in his armor, protecting the sin with everything he had.
At the exact same time, near the dimly lit pantry hallway, Jermajesty caught you as you were carrying a tray of empty crystal glasses. His usual playful smile was entirely gone, replaced by a genuine, protective frown as he stepped into your path.
"Hey. Talk to me, Y/N," Jermajesty whispered, his hand resting gently on the doorframe to keep you from passing. "You're not yourself tonight. Are they treating you bad? If you need to leave, I can break the contract myself."
You looked up at Jermajesty, your face instantly softening into your signature sweet smile. It was a masterpiece of a lie.
"I'm just tired, Jermajesty, I promise," you laughed softly, your voice light and effortless. "The baby’s teething, so I’ve been up at all hours. Everything’s perfect, they’re just stressed about work or whatever."
You felt a little guilty lying right to the face of the person who got you the job but what were you supposed to tell him? Yeah I bounce on your brother’s dick in the pool house while we hide from his wife?? Absolutely not. So you held your composure, protecting the dangerous addiction you shared with his brother like your life depended on it.
As composed as you were though, you were pushed to your absolute limit the following afternoon. Maddie caught you alone in the grand upstairs corridor while the rest of the house was dead silent. She stepped directly into your space, her sharp designer perfume invading your senses, her eyes burning with a psychotic malice.
"I see the way you carry yourself in my house, Y/N," Maddie whispered, her voice a chilling, venomous promise. "You think you've made yourself indispensable. But let me be entirely clear: I am already in contact with a new elite nanny agency. The moment you step an inch out of line, I will fire you, blacklist you, and erase you from this family. You won't even be a memory."
You didn't shrink. You didn't allow a single tear to fall. You kept your chin parallel to the floor, holding her gaze with an unsettling, serene calm. "I understand," you replied softly, offering a polite, empty nod before walking past her.
But you knew exactly how to turn her threat into your weapon.
You retreated straight to the empty nursery. Minutes later, the door slipped open and Jaafar stepped inside, his chest heaving, his face dark with panic because he had seen Maddie cornering you from the downstairs hallway.
"What did she say to you?" Jaafar demanded, his voice a tight, frantic whisper as he crossed the room toward you. "Baby, tell what’s wrong so I can make it right."
You were standing by the crib, quietly folding a tiny baby blanket. You turned around slowly, letting him see the heavy tears finally welling in your eyes. You looked so small, so entirely vulnerable under the weight of the house.
"She’s gonna fire me, Jaafar," you whispered, your voice trembling beautifully as you took a soft step toward him. "She’s already looking at other agencies.... I think I should just let her. It hurts too much to watch you look right through me during the day, and then hear you go to her bed at night while I’m all alone. Maybe I should just pack my bags tonight and quit. Let you fix your family."
The mere idea of the house without your warmth sent a wave of pure panic through his chest. He crossed the remaining space in a single, desperate stride, his large hands slamming onto your waist, pulling your body flush against his hard frame.
"No," he growled, his voice thick with a raw, terrifying dependency. "I don't care about her. You can’t leave, baby. Do you hear me? I can't breathe in this house if you aren't in it."
The threat of your sudden absence hit Jaafar like a physical blow to the sternum. His pride, his ego, his carefully constructed walls—everything completely shattered at the thought of you walking out that door.
The emotional collapse broke the final dam of your mutual restraint. Past midnight, while the rest of the house slept in darkness, Jaafar tracked you down to the secluded, dimly lit library on the first floor. The doors clicked shut, the lock turning with a heavy snap.
The room was warm, shadowed, and entirely isolated from the rest of the world. There were no stupid excuses left to give, no more lies and cold shoulders. Just you and him.
You stood by the velvet sofa, and when Jaafar approached you, his dark eyes were completely wild, entirely consumed by the sickness of his addiction to you. He didn't say a word. He just dropped his forehead against your shoulder, his large, heavy hands gripping your hips so tightly it would undoubtedly leave faint, bruising reminders on your skin the next morning.
"Please," he choked out, his voice a raw, pathetic plea against your skin, his ego entirely dissolving into the dark. "Fuck everything else. Fuck my pride. Baby, I take it back. Just give me tonight, Y/N. I'm begging you. Kiss it better f’me."
Your heart hammered, a fierce, dominant satisfaction rushing through your veins. You took his face in your hand, pulling his lips down to yours in a deep, wet, and deeply sinful kiss that tasted of pure desperation.
"You want this?" You whisper against his swollen lips. He nods eyes dark and glassy. "please."
His touch tonight was explosive, a manic re-claiming of his own sanity through your skin. He parted your legs, his heavy frame settling between your thighs, and slowly, he dragged his tip between your folds. You let out a small, choked sound, your hips involuntarily bucked up to chase more. Jaafars body tensed as he finally positioned himself just right, pushing into your tight warmth with gritted teeth, biting back the moan threatening to slip past.
He took his sweet time, going inch by agonizing inch, all the while your chest heaved as he stretched you out, filled the emptiness that had you aching.
When he finally bottomed out, panting, you clenched around him, whimpering slightly. With a shaky breath, he began to move. Careful rolls of his hips, a hand splayed over your stomach as he eased himself in deep.
You stuttered out his name as that same hand moved lower, stopping right where your bodies met, the pad of his thumb slowly rubbing your clit.
His eyes fluttered as he watched your head fall back against the arm of the couch, panting as he eased into a slow rhythm, angling his hips with each thrust in search of that spot.
When he found it, you keened, toes curling, lips parting as you let out a moan. "Jaafar.." you dragged out the end of his name, practically whining. He only grunted, something like a strangled whimper managing to slip past his gritted teeth.
"Yeah, I know, I know baby..."
He continued to thrust slowly, pull all the way back out before pushing back in, brown eyes watching your face twist upon each push. He moved to cage you down, supporting himself by his forearms, groaning into your ear as he bucked his hips deeper into you, pace noticeably faster.
You threw your head back. It was so good, perfect even. But you still wanted to feel more of him.
"Closer..." You asked, a quiet whine behind your words. "Closer, please, Jaafar...."
He pushed the backs of your thighs, pressed your knees up by your head. You hooked your arms around his neck, he kissed the the hinge of your jaw, breathing desperate words against your neck.
"You're the only one," he growled, his voice deep and entirely broken as he drilled deeper, his sweat dripping onto your collarbone. "I regret her. You burn me alive, Y/N. I belong to you. Every single inch of me belongs to you."
The confession came tumbling out, catching you by surprise. You bit back a groan, feeling him trail sloppy kisses down to your collarbone.
You were shaking, letting out breathy moans as he began to suck soft marks into your skin, lost in the feeling—the taste of you.
Your hands slid to hold the back of his neck, pulling him back carefully. Your nose bumped his as you held his face, felt the sharp curve of his jaw in your palms. You pulled a hand back to find one of his by your head, you laced your fingers with his, gave his hand a soft squeeze before softly pecking his lips.
"I love you too," you murmured the words against his before pulling him back feverishly, moaning into the kiss. "I love you so much."
He picked up his pace at those words, fucking into you desperately, chasing an impossible high. "Can't believe I went so long with this pussy..." He panted out.
"Always fuckin' want you," The rasp in his voice made you impossibly wetter.
The sound of the expensive couch creaking and the soft slap of skin against skin faded into the background as he leaned down to kiss you, all messy and raw.
"Tell me you mean it." The words heaved out of him, hot and breathy, his lidded eyes met yours, the blistering need behind them setting your skin ablaze.
"I do," you managed, tugging him closer, holding him against your chest. "I really do, Jaafar, please-" He groaned by your ear, "Fuck, I know. I got you..."
With a broken sound, you came, burying into the crook of his neck.
He breathed with you for a moment, held you close, heated sweat slicked skin against yours. He cums inside you with a choked, breathless cry, his body trembling violently as he collapsed against your chest, completely consumed.
The morning after offered a beautiful, chilling portrait of the complete structural collapse of the Jackson marriage.
By eight o’clock, the grand dining room was washed in a bright, clinical sun. Maddie sat at the head of the massive, polished mahogany table, her laptop open, her fingers typing with a sharp, aggressive rhythm. She was actively reviewing elite nanny profiles from some high end agency, her face set in a smug, confident mask of corporate authority. She truly believed she was about to reclaim her house. She believed she was about to erase you.
You walked in, their son balanced effortlessly on your hip. You moved over to the sad little beige high chair next to Maddie, carefully sitting him in and a setting his juice cup, completely quiet, carrying yourself with flawless composure.
Jaafar sat at the opposite end of the long table, the morning financial papers spread out before him. He wasn't wearing his tailored suit jacket yet; he was just in a black button down, the top three buttons casually undone, his sculpted chest still carrying the faint heat of the velvet sofa.
Maddie didn't look up from her screen, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Y/N, once you finish the morning feeding, I need you to log your hours for me. A representative will be calling at noon to finalize the transition paperwork."
It was a direct, public flex of her power. A reminder that you were a temporary fixture.
You didn't answer right away, giving her a simple nod, stepping past Jaafar’s chair to head back toward the kitchen.
But Jaafar didn't let you pass.
The discipline that had ruled his entire life for so long had simply….vanished, dissolved by the toxic, electric dependency he had surrendered to the night prior. He didn't look down. He didn't ignore you to please his wife. Instead, his large, heavy hand shot out across the open space, his long fingers wrapping tightly around your waist.
With a single, effortless tug, Jaafar hauled you straight back and pulled you down onto his lap.
The room went violently dead silent. The only sound was the low sound of cartoons and the soft gasp that escaped you, your skirt riding up over your bare thighs as you settled flush against Jaafar’s solid, spreading heat.
Maddie’s fingers froze instantly over her keyboard. Her jaw literally dropped, her eyes widening into a mask of pure, unadulterated horror as she stared down the length of her own dining table, watching her husband possessively cradle the nanny on his thigh in broad daylight.
"Jaafar..." Maddie choked out, her voice trembling with a sudden, suffocating humilation. "What—what the hell are you doing?"
Jaafar didn't even turn his head to look at his wife. He completely iced her out, treating her presence like nothing more than background static. His large palm remained locked heavily onto your hip, his thumb lazily stroking your skin beneath the hem of your skirt. His dark eyes lifted to lock directly onto yours, blown out and heavy with an unbothered ownership.
"You didn't be up so early, sweetheart," Jaafar murmured, his deep voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated directly against your back. He completely ignored his wife's frantic breathing, his focus entirely consumed by the swollen curve of your lower lip. "You’re probably tired from last night. S’okay, just sit here and rest."
A wicked, intoxicating thrill rushed through your veins. You didn't panic. You didn't try to stand up or apologize. Instead, you leaned back into his broad chest, molding your body perfectly into his embrace, letting your bare thigh press firmly against his hardening length right beneath the table.
Slowly, you tilted your head up, looking directly across the mahogany expanse at Maddie’s pale, trembling face. You let a tiny, knowing, sweetly sinful smirk tug at the very corner of your lips.
"Jaafar, look at me!" Maddie slammed her hands onto the table, standing up so fast her leather chair scraped violently against the hardwood. "This is fucking psychotic! I am calling the police, I am having her thrown out of this house—"
"If you touch the phone, Maddie, I will take everything from you before it even hits noon," Jaafar cut her off, his tone entirely deadpan, devoid of a single ounce of marital respect. He finally cast a cold, indifferent glance toward his wife, his grip on your hip tightening. "Y/N isn't going anywhere. Close the laptop. Cancel the agency. If you don't like looking at her, you’re more than welcome to take your breakfast in the office."
Maddie stood there, completely paralyzed, her chest heaving as she realized the sheer, terrifying truth. Her threats, her money, her authority—none of it meant a damn thing anymore. She hadn't just lost her husband; she had lost her entire empire to the quiet girl sitting at her table.
Jaafar turned his eyes back to you, his face softening into that raw, desperate adoration from the night before as he leaned up to press a slow, lingering kiss right against your jawline, whispering against your skin, "Tell me what you want for breakfast, baby. Anything you want."
You held Maddie’s shattered, burning gaze across the room, your fingers gently tangling in Jaafar’s dark hair as you sank deeper into his lap. You didn’t feel bad at all. Even as you watched her take their son and storm out of the house that night.
It’s not home-wrecking if the house was already broken, right?
