South

౨౿ ⁺ thinking about ex-husband!smoke. the divorce yall went through was quick and straight to the chase. you dropped the papers on his desk and he signed them without a messy fight, court hearings, or anything like that. ex-husband!smoke let you have the house in the divorce and moved into his own makeshift apartment, since he never wanted for much. ex-husband!smoke still comes over yall used to be shared house to fix on things that broke or to put groceries in your fridge.

“you said the sink acting up again?”, he asked with the phone pushed up on his shoulder while grabbing his keys and toolbox. “i’ll be over there mama.”

to be honest, smoke didn’t even fully process the divorce. he got that yall weren’t legally married, but in his eyes you were still his wife. he kept pictures of yall together up on his social medias, yall weddings pictures were still framed at his apartment, and your contact stayed “wife♥️.”

ex-husband!smoke will find any excuse to be in your presence again. you sick? he’s at the house with soup already on the stove and some nice lemon tea with honey ready for you. you going out with your girls? he’s yall personal driver. you tired at your job? he callin’ your boss to tell ‘em you not coming in tomorrow and sending you double what you make in a day. he honestly didn’t give a fuck yall was divorced.

ex-husband!smoke hasn’t touched another woman since yall divorce and he wasn’t planning on either. stack would often tease him about it, but no matter how many times his younger brother took him out for a night—no other woman could compare to his beautiful ass wife.

ex-husband!smoke who honestly can’t stop yearning for you and wants to wake up to you every morning in bed again. he knew you divorced him for a reason, and he was putting in the upmost effort to fix his issues and put that rock back on your finger.

ex-husband!smoke who finds himself back in the bed yall shared together when one of yall can’t sleep. “you had a nightmare, baby? ‘m sorry”, while slipping under the silk sheets and guiding you to lay on his bare chest—head rested right below the tattoo of your name on his collarbone.

ex-husband!smoke who’s actually a little delusional about you trying to head back into the dating scene. he would kill any nigga who thought they had a chance with you . . .

© EUNOIADOLL

Synopsis: Seeing how good you were with his nephews, Michael realized that he wanted you to become the mother of his children someday.

Content: thriller era! boyfriend michael x reader! fluff, constant mention of wanting kids.

Author’s note: hihi :) this was in my drafts so I am finishing it up. i hope to not lose motivation again.

contains: no usage of y/n, touchy jan, heavy flirting, teensy tiny bit of smut, eater jan

notes: i watched franchaela edits while writing these

⋆˙⟡⋆ ✦︎ secret fwb! Janet who whenever you play golf she makes sures to guide you

“here, let me teach you how to do it” she says calmly while her hands feel up your hip and then rest on your waist

“swing your body a little..yea just like that” her hands gently glided to your wrist “comeback for momentum and then swing”

⋆˙⟡⋆ ✦︎ secret fwb! Janet who loves intense eye contact whenever the two of you have a regular conversation

⋆˙⟡⋆ ✦︎ secret fwb! Janet loves seeing you go through a trial and error process with trying on clothes for a night out

“these are cute..why don’t you wear them for me” she said pulling up your bandage dress revealing your cheetah print panties

⋆˙⟡⋆ ✦︎ secret fwb! Janet has a habit of taking pictures of you all fucked out and asleep whenever she’s through with you

⋆˙⟡⋆ ✦︎ secret fwb! Janet who insists on bringing you to the studio with her when recording songs…mainly songs like would you and any time any place

⋆˙⟡⋆ ✦︎ secret fwb! Janet who likes to casually hold you by the waist and rest her head on your shoulder

⋆˙⟡⋆ ✦︎ secret fwb! Janet who likes going clubbing with you so the two of you came make out and have use the “we were drunk” excuse

⋆˙⟡⋆ ✦︎ secret fwb! Janet who likes to use the excuse of “buying matching thongs” just so she can see you in it later on

⋆˙⟡⋆ ✦︎ secret fwb! Janet who drives you up the fucking wall whenever she eats you

“oh my god! oh my god! oh my god!” you whimpered out, pushing Janet’s from between your legs “wait jan…” she looked up at you “what?”

“i can’t” “yes you can baby, just a lil longer”

tags 🏷️ @unseenleylinesecret @vict-oryy @vict-oryy @hip-hop-star-4 @blkkbratt @pinkjollyrancher54 @dollthoughtz @commaanders @anglfac @doleuia @missharper33 @siighrns @jermajestysbaby @enzo6ekiiii @nvhdesire @niyahctrl @mikaylajacksonnn @callmelyriic @sintizc @humannaturess @whyxo @loluaintvalentine

fwb!jermajesty who you can call at any time, early or late, for anything. whether it’s because you want to talk on the phone, because you need him (or rather what’s in his pants) or just because you want some company.

fwb!jermajesty who will come right away if you call him at 4 am just to lay it down. he lays on top of you with his head on your titties and his tongue moving around your nipple while delivering slow, careful strokes, or he’ll give you backshots with his hand gripping on your ass and pulling you up by your hair to kiss along your neck.

fwb!jermajesty spends the night at your apartment very frequently, 99% of the time you both sleep naked which on some occasions ends up with you backing your bare ass up against his semi hard dick.

you knew he was sleep, but feeling the fat of your ass rutting against his dick woke him up. his breathing quickened as he grabbed his dick and put it between your thighs feeling your slick on his shaft. he humped you faster, “fuck mama i’m bout to cum…” he whispered “me too maj, cum with me baby.” he released on your back with a moan that sounded so sexy it made you finish.

fwb!jermajesty takes you shopping without you having to ask. if you even do as little as glance at something, he’s buying it. he loves spending money on you, and don’t let you drag him into a lingerie store and tell him he can pick something. he might just fuck your pretty ass in the dressing room.

fwb!jermajesty loves to smoke with you. he would grab your hand and take you to the balcony of your apartment, sit on the cute couch your have out there and place you right on his lap. he always lets you roll the blunts because he claims “you just do it better.”

he always lets you get the first hit so he can kiss you and transfer the smoke from your mouth to his. he loves getting you high because you just can’t seem to keep your hands off him. but you’re not alone, he can never keep his hands to himself, high or not.

fwb!jermajesty watches movies with you or at least pretends to. he just can’t take his eyes off you, not even looking away when you turn and see him staring, instead he smiles. “maj watch the movie and stop looking at me like that!” you say with a smile, throwing a pillow at him.

fwb!jermajesty who has a key to your apartment. if he wanted to see you and you weren’t answering his calls or texts? that’s fine he’ll just pop up. most of the time he finds you sleep or cleaning up and your phone was in your room.

fwb!jermajesty eats you out like he’s never ate before. his tongue is so skilled, lapping up your slick and using his thumb to rub tight circles on your clit. he loves pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you and he’s very satisfied if you ended up squirting all over his face.

fwb!jermajesty gets super jealous when he sees you talking to a man thats not him. he hates when men try to flirt with you because you’re his girl. he doesn’t even want you talking to them no matter who they are. if yall aren’t related what could he possibly need from you???

fwb!jermajesty who is trying to deny the fact that he may be falling for you. and little does he know, you’re doing the same time.

[unprotected sex , pervy reader & tito , pet names , caught jorkin it , uhh black reader , not proofread either , thangya]

.ᐟ. .ᐟ. .ᐟ.

TITO HAD BEEN CRASHING AT YOUR PLACE FOR ALMOST A WEEK now. due to the horrible plumping issues in his flat across town, you openly accepted his staying. you two cleared out the your guest room, fixing it up real nice for him to vacate.

every night with tito was one for the books, always old memories being shared to make you belly laugh so hard you nearly threw up, tears streaming down your face as tito only added more things to fuel the fire.

you cooked for him too, something about a home cooked meal and terrible singing as he set the old jackson 5 album on your dusty record player. letting it scratch to life before he busted out in song and dance. you never knew true peace when tito was around. life really was a trip with him.

“tito~” your voice was light and airy, as you unlocked your front door. “i’m home tito!” you announced a little louder this time when your fluffy haired friend wasn’t on his casual spot on the coach. the tv was playing some old black and white flick, turned way too loud. you found the remote not too far from the table and turned it down.

you moved through the small hallways of your flat, pushing each door open until you found him in the guest room. his black jeans pooled around his ankles, underwear stopped just at the bend of his knees. his movements were rushed, small pants leaving his mouth before your name tumbled out like a broken record.

angling yourself better in his cracked door, you noticed his free hand to be holding something that looked way too similar to your panties right under his nose. his other hand fisted his cock faster, thumb dragging slowly over the top as he smeared his precum all over.

you should’ve known tito was up to no good when he kept insisting to do the laundry. always using the excuse that he was a freeloader here and wanted something to do. you didn’t think much of it because of the dynamic you two shared. he made you laugh like real friends do, you never thought there was something underlying to that.

but now as you watched him plant his face in what you were sure to be your panties, you couldn’t help but replay all the times in your head that tito made himself feel more like a lover than friend.

you were reigned right back in when his moans became frantic pleas of your name, his hips bucking wildly before he came, white ribbons covering his fist.

now was as better time as any, you gently pushed the door open, standing before tito with both your hands on your hips.

in his tired estate, he did his best to cover himself, flinging your panties somewhere around the room as you had completely startled him.

tito was quick to say something but you motioned for him to stay quiet. each time he went to apologize or just clear his name, you shook your head. working your scarf from around your neck; dropping it at your boot covered feet, you shrugged your heavy coat off; your button up shirt following, then your jeans until you were in nothing but your undershirt and panties.

“you’re so naughty, tito, bet this is what you wanted all along hm? using my niceness just to use me and my panties?” your emphasis on panties made tito shudder, his hands planting firm into the cushions to prop himself up.

you advanced towards him in little strides that made tito clam up, mouth instantly drying up as you took his chin and jaw in your smaller hand, your grip a bit tight as you guided him to look you in your eyes.

“how long you been sniffing my panties, getting off to my scent, huh?” you lowered down to his height, “be honest baby, i’m not mad.”

“just a few days,” he confessed, lips smooshing up from how hard your grip was. “but don’t act like you don’t do nun of that teasing mess with me too. walkin’ around in nothing but your panties, only your arm shielding you from me.”

he wasn’t wrong. the moment you left that steamy bathroom, all dolled up from your every night shower, steam and a hint of cocoa butter wafting off your brown skin, you really wore nothing but panties. you’d prance around your kitchen with not a care in the world, nipples alert and hard to the world even when tito came to grab something to drink. you never deterred from your mission, pressing your chest to his back as you begged him to play some of his old tunes.

“this ain’t about me tito, this about you and my drawls.” you were stern, eyes holding just a little playfulness in them as you swung a leg over his to straddle him. “you did my laundry so you could huff em’?”

“no.” his voice was firm, eyes hard on yours. “i did your laundry because i’m a gentleman.”

“a gentleman that uses his best friends panties to get off…right,” you trailed, releasing his jaw with just a little jerk of your hand. “kiss me.” your voice was soft even though the demand was meant to come out strong.

tito didn’t care. he cradled your head with a newfound gentleness before his lips were ultimately taking over yours. his free dragged you right to his dick, guiding your hips to roll to the rhythm he created in his head. the kiss lasted what felt like minutes, both of you tearing away for air before you took your undershirt off, throwing it the rest of the piles.

“you’re faulting me but by how wet you are i think you been wantin’ this too, sweetheart.” tito’s grasp was firm around your hips, the way he was guiding you over his cock lazily but threatened to ramp up by the seconds. “just been waitin’ on me to slip up so you can make yo’ move.”

you smirked down at him, your hands coming to rest just above his heart, you pecked his lips, pulling away before you were enticed for another one. this time, tito didn’t let you go, he held you there with big hands. his mouth attacked yours deliciously, his tongue exploring the roof of your mouth with each passing second. you reached between your bodies to pull your panties to the side, not wanting to waste another beat without him.

“shut up and fuck me tito, you’ve always talked so much.” you breathed as tito lifted you with ease. he guided his cock around your folds, your slick coating his hand in the process. you sank down, a hiss leaving your mouth at the stretch he gave.

you took ahold of his biceps, curling your nails into them as you bounced once or twice, trying to get situated. your gummy walls stretched in protest, a sharp pain making you sit still until tito delicately pushed up into you.

this position alone had you feeling everything he had to offer.

after a while you rocked your hips back and forth with his guidance of course. his hand snakes up the sides of your body, bringing them forward to cup your breasts in his hands. his thumbs tweaked your swollen buds before he rolled them between his fingers earning a low moan from you.

your walls clamped tightly around him, the slow drag of you going up and down driving tito closer and closer to his limit.

“you teasin’ me, ion’ like that too much,” the indianan drawl in that deep voice made you do it once again, eyes half lidded as you bit your bottom lip hard. “this ain’t gon’ work.”

he sat straight up, wrapping his arms around your mid section before he flipped you around, your ass straight up in the air as his big hand had you pressed into his pillow.

there was nothing gentle about a man who was edged to his limit.

he rammed into you from behind with such a force your back arched, legs shaking uncontrollably. he gathered the coils covering your face up into a makeshift ponytail, guiding your head back as he fucked into you. his cock dragged against your walls, each stroke a reminder of who not to play with as he went.

“not so tough when you’re being forced to take all of me, stupid girl,” he kissed down your back, each thrust jiggling your ass right against him.

“t-tito,” you whined, trying to match the pace of his thrusts. you needed him to speed up, to fuck you like you needed but now he was teasing you and it was driving you insane. your fingers fisted the sheets, your free hand reaching under your parted legs to rub circles over your clit.

“you gon’ go crazy over me,” his warning fanned against your ear, “i’ll make sure of it. everytime you look at me, i wan’ you to remember me splitting you open like this.”

“tito~” you keened, voice just shrill as he fucked you so slow. “please, please, please.”

his laugh was deep, something almost sinister. “since you asked so nicely.”

he picked up his pace, cock spreading across your g-spot with each movement. his hips rolled into yours at a devilish pace, his hot palm sliding up and down your back before he braced his hand around your shoulder. you bounced back onto him, gushing around his cock as his tip kissed your cervix.

you were figuratively and literally hooting and hollering by the time tito hit his limit. with each roll of his hips he only brung you closer and closer until you were cumming all over him and yourself, spazzing so violently tito resorted to bear hugging you to ground you.

he thrusted slowly again, his own seed shooting white, hot ribbons against your cervix before he slowly pulled out to not cause as much overstimulation.

tito pulled you taught against him, throwing a light blanket from his bed to cover you up. the kiss he pressed to your temple was nothing less of gentlemanly, a gentle reminder that he was there if you needed him.

“so what we telling everyone when you move in,” your voice was light, still riding the high of cloud nine.

“we’ll tell them i’m just really good at doing laundry.”

you both laughed, a deep belly laugh that somehow made your heart ache for him a little more than before.

ᐟ. .ᐟ. .ᐟ.

BABYDADDY!JERMAJESTY X READER

TAGLIST౨ৎ - @delictezz @maczken @sturniszn @k-offrecord @realgalore @vict-oryy @hismainchic @szalipcombo @mrsj4cksOn @mylibraryy @angelbbyunicorn @soimightlikeoldmen69 @appleheadsfish @miratate @unseenleylinesecret @hcwait @luvsickk0 @apricottdoll @ladybugnectar @finalfangirl3 @nevergettingl4id @thesecretvaultt @nayellimarte-blog @saes-world @forbiddenmartyrcyclone @superdupercoolfairydust18293030 @lov3lylxvender @healthenature @dreaminrelia @aangelfface @bunnyyybabyycutii @missmodelsexxx @starliqhtsworld @aly29a2001 @monicasblues @chloethefantastic @skullclubb @whatdreamsaremadeofbitch @jermajestyswife @baenation-1 @candy2478 @stuffdloves @bluegirll444 @destinystarrrr @galiixoxo @ughdimwit @lanibuggg @jadoreeesworld @narratedillusions @plqnetkiyaa @4ngelonmars @devynrulesboisdrool @phantomof-themcu @ssweetestgirlinthewrld @michaelsgirlie @prettygirlwmula @pimpcessing @shesoutofmylife - continuation in the comments

-if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist lmk! If your on the list but not getting notified check your mention settings

A/N - I have a lot of fun doing these if you couldn’t tell lmk if yall like baby daddy Jermajesty I need validation

BABYDADDY!JERMAJESTY X READER

TAGLIST౨ৎ - @delictezz @maczken @sturniszn @k-offrecord @realgalore @vict-oryy @hismainchic @szalipcombo @mrsj4cksOn @mylibraryy @angelbbyunicorn @soimightlikeoldmen69 @appleheadsfish @miratate @unseenleylinesecret @hcwait @luvsickk0 @apricottdoll @ladybugnectar @finalfangirl3 @nevergettingl4id @thesecretvaultt @nayellimarte-blog @saes-world @forbiddenmartyrcyclone @superdupercoolfairydust18293030 @lov3lylxvender @healthenature @dreaminrelia @aangelfface @bunnyyybabyycutii @missmodelsexxx @starliqhtsworld @aly29a2001 @monicasblues @chloethefantastic @skullclubb @whatdreamsaremadeofbitch @jermajestyswife @baenation-1 @candy2478 @stuffdloves @bluegirll444 @destinystarrrr @galiixoxo @ughdimwit @lanibuggg @jadoreeesworld @narratedillusions @plqnetkiyaa @4ngelonmars @devynrulesboisdrool @phantomof-themcu @ssweetestgirlinthewrld @michaelsgirlie @prettygirlwmula @pimpcessing @shesoutofmylife - continuation in the comments

-if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist lmk! If your on the list but not getting notified check your mention settings

A/N - I have a lot of fun doing these if you couldn’t tell lmk if yall like baby daddy Jermajesty I need validation

⚠️: angst, exes-to-lovers, toxic relationship dynamics, situationship, emotional manipulation, jealousy, possessiveness, unresolved feelings, alcohol use, explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, praise kink, daddy kink, creampie, cheating/infidelity themes, reconciliation, emotional vulnerability, NBA player AU

🎞️: Years after a messy falling out and countless chances wasted, Jordan convinces Y/N to come over for one late-night conversation. What starts as another argument about old feelings, jealousy, and everything they never managed to say slowly turns into an honest reckoning with the truths neither of them truly left behind.

Wc: 4.9k words

“I'm alone, every night alone. Why am I alone when I know that you want me too Am I wrong? Tell me that I'm wrong Tell me I deserve all the pain that you put me through, oh”

Jordan sat alone in his apartment, the cold breeze drifting in from the clouds outside sending a shiver down his spine. He couldn't sleep, not for the second night in a row. He swore up and down he was over you, and for a while he had been. He ignored your story likes, your views on his TikToks, all the little reminders that you were still lingering around somewhere. He was done.

Finished.

As much as he wanted to be, Jordan just couldn't stay away. You got under his skin and tangled yourself around his heartstrings in a way he couldn't quite understand. The way you'd call for him when you needed him most, the way you'd cuss him out one minute and make him laugh the next, the way you'd look at him like you loved him whenever you both played house in his San Francisco penthouse. Pretending that this situationship would eventually turn into a marriage, that it'd become something real instead of a bandage over the emotional wounds you both carried.

Unfortunately, Jordan couldn't deny that he played a role in all of it. In a lot of ways, he was the reason things ended up like this in the first place.

Jordan was younger then, not like he is now. He was already becoming a star, but when you met him he wasn't used to the attention yet. Not like now. Not as comfortable in his own skin. In another universe, maybe things would've worked out between who he is today and who you used to be. The sweet, know-it-all Stanford student who interviewed him for her school's news blog. You cared about him in a way nobody else did. Back then he felt more like a machine than a person, constantly having to prove himself wherever he went.

Produce. Produce. Produce.

But you?

You just wanted your "Jordy."

You wanted him mind, body, and soul, and he only wanted you sometimes. Once you realized that, you decided to play the game right alongside him. Your yearning faded little by little until distance became second nature. He tried calling, texting, sending TikToks. Anything to get your attention. Sometimes it worked—a laughing emoji here, a "wyd" there, an occasional late-night visit with months in between.

His anger toward you simmered constantly. Between everything happening with his team, management, and family, he needed you, and you couldn't have cared less. Even when you gave him the time of day and agreed to link up, you'd be gone before the next morning. Your relationship had always been fueled by lust, but at least before there was substance underneath it. Jordan hated this version of you. There was no winning with her.

He'd never forget his first home game after getting traded and spotting your face courtside. Just smiling as wide as you could.

Just not for him.

He couldn't make out exactly who you were with, but he didn't want to know. The fact that you were sitting on the away side told him everything he needed to know.

He didn't play nearly as well as he should've that night, which in his mind was entirely your fault. He couldn't focus. Couldn't think straight. He was fighting off a spiral in the locker room afterward. Cameras in his face. Reporters asking questions. Bright lights everywhere.

Meanwhile, all he could think about was you jumping up and down when his team lost.

It made him sick.

It made him hate you.

That night he sent you a flood of texts, saying anything and everything he could think of to get under your skin the way you got under his.

"You'll do anything to get some attention."

"That fuck nigga ain't better than me."

"I see what you was really around me for."

"Groupie ass."

Every single message went ignored while you laid up with your new part-time lover. When you eventually saw them, though, you couldn't even be angry. Jordan's attempt to hurt you was nothing more than a desperate attempt to figure out if you still cared.

And you did.

Somewhat.

You wanted to ask him about the trade. How he was adjusting. How life was treating him.

But those days were over.

Yet here Jordan was years later, still going back and forth with you. Still needing you, no matter how much he hated admitting it. He tossed and turned for another hour before finally grabbing his phone. His thumbs moved quickly as he pulled up your contact and nervously dialed.

He just wanted to talk.

You never even heard him out before things got like this.

God.

"What."

Your voice was cold when you answered. It had been almost a month since the two of you had spoken. Longer since you'd actually seen each other face-to-face. As much as you pretended to be nonchalant, there was a part of you that still felt tied to Jordan in ways you hated acknowledging.

"No attitude right now, Y/N. You in the Bay or what?"

"Of course I am. I live in the Bay, Jordan."

"Can you come see me? Please?"

His voice cracked slightly, his desperation impossible to miss.

"You good?—Actually, never mind. I'm on the way."

You spent the next thirty minutes silently cursing yourself out.

One, for agreeing to go over there.

And two, for not checking in on him sooner.

You let yourself into his penthouse using the spare key he'd never bothered taking back, riding the elevator up with a knot in your stomach. The last few conversations between you had been anything but pleasant. You were almost positive this one would end the same way.

"Jordan?" you called out as the elevator doors opened.

You walked through the foyer and into the living room where Jordan sat on the couch. A bottle of Hennessy rested on the coffee table while he ran both hands through his short hair.

"Hey," he said quietly. "Can we talk?"

"About?"

"Us..."

"Here we go again."

You rolled your eyes, already regretting your decision to come over.

"Don't do that, Y/N. Don't you know how bad this shit be tearing me up?"

You rolled your eyes again.

"I get it. Back then, I ain't know no better. I was twenty-two, just tryna be outside. I ain't mean to do all that at your expense."

"Mmhm. Right."

You barely looked at him.

"And I get it. I hurt you. I should've been way more serious about you. And I'm ready to be now, but you out here parading around that other basketball nigga and this shit got me fucked up."

"Who? Tyrese—"

The second the name left your mouth, you realized you'd fallen for the bait.

"Oh, so that's who it is?" Jordan sat forward. "You fucking my homeboy? You'll do anything to get under a nigga's skin. You evil, yo."

"Jordan, you literally flew girls out while I was home on winter break. Let's not play the evil game."

"That's different—"

"There we fucking go. Picking and choosing."

You laughed bitterly.

"You fucked me over, Jordan, so I moved on. I had no idea y'all were even close, so stop acting like somebody gives enough of a fuck about you to be vindictive anymore."

"Because everything you do is personal, Y/N. You do weird shit to piss me off even though it makes you look like a fucking groupie."

"When are you gonna realize I gave up on that gimmick a long ass time ago? I just don't care anymore. Just like everybody else in your life."

The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

Instant regret followed.

Jordan's expression dropped immediately.

"I just wanted to talk, bro." His voice cracked. "I don't even really care about the niggas. I don't care about your weird ass being vengeful. I just want you."

Silence settled between you.

"I can't want you?" he asked quietly.

You finally looked at him.

His eyes were glossy.

God, he looked awful.

"I get it. I hurt you and I'm sorry. And if that's not enough, that's okay. But you telling me you don't care anymore, Y/N? We really fucked up that bad?"

The anger that had been fueling you for the last few years suddenly felt exhausting.

You sat down beside him on the couch.

For the first time all night, neither of you spoke.

Jordan stared down at his hands while you stared at the bottle on the coffee table. The tension between you wasn't the same sharp, angry tension you'd carried through every argument. It felt heavier than that. Sadder.

Like two people mourning something that never had the chance to become what it was supposed to be.

"I would’ve made it better Y/N." Jordan finally said.

You didn't reply.

"I would've did it right if I got one more chance."

You swallowed hard.

Jordan let out a quiet laugh and shook his head.

"Crazy thing is, I don't even think you believe me."

And the truth was, you didn't know if you did.

Not because you thought he was lying.

But because somewhere along the way, believing him had become scarier than walking away. Believing him meant admitting that a part of you never really moved on. Besides what would one more chance do differently than the millions you’d already given him. What would change this time?

Jordan leaned back against the couch cushions, his eyes finding the ceiling before they drifted back toward you. "You know how many times I almost called you?" You scoffed softly. "You literally called me tonight." He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean Y/N. You know how many nights I sat here staring at your contact trying to figure out what to say?" You crossed your arms. "And what stopped you?" Jordan laughed bitterly. "Pride. The same shit that got me in this position in the first place."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Jordan." Your voice was quieter now, lacking the venom it had earlier. "You keep telling me this like this changes what happened." Jordan immediately sat up straighter. 

"I know it don't." 

"Then why are we having this conversation?" 

"Because you keep acting like none of this meant shit to you." His voice cracked slightly. "And I know that's a lie." 

You rolled your eyes. "I didn’t mean shit to you, I just moved how you moved Jordan."

 “Y/N bro if we didn’t mean shit to each other why would we spend 4 years even doing this? Is get back and revenge and games that serious?" He blinked

“I’m willing to admit I miss you and try again, how hardheaded do you have to be to not do the same?”

The room fell silent again. Jordan shook his head and rubbed at his jaw. "You think I don't know I fucked up? You think I don't replay every single conversation we ever had?" He laughed bitterly. "Every time you cried because of some dumb shit I did. Every time you asked me what we were. Every time you gave me another chance after I ain't deserve one." The lump in your throat grew. "I was selfish." You stayed quiet. "I kept thinking you'd always be there." That one hurt more than you wanted it to. Because he was right. For a long time, you had been there.

"You really hurt me." The words slipped out before you could stop them. Jordan's jaw tightened instantly. "I know." "No, I don't think you do." His eyes dropped. 

"You got to leave whenever things got hard. You got to go be outside and figure yourself out while I stayed behind trying to understand why I wasn't enough." Jordan opened his mouth but stopped himself. "I stayed and watched you choose everybody else over me." Your voice cracked despite your best efforts. "So excuse me if I don't know what to do with this whole apology tour."

Jordan stared at you for a long moment. "You were enough." 

You laughed immediately. 

"Please don't do that." 

"I'm serious." 

"No, because if I was enough we wouldn't be sitting here right now." 

Jordan shook his head. "That's not why." 

"Then why?" 

He sighed heavily and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Because I was immature. Because I had all this attention and money and people in my ear telling me I could have whatever I wanted." He finally looked at you. "Not because there was something wrong with you."

You hated how much you wanted to believe him. Hated how sincere he sounded. Hated how much younger he suddenly looked sitting there. Not the athlete. Not the celebrity. Not the guy everybody knew. Just Jordan. Just your Jordy. And somehow that realization pissed you off even more. "You practiced this in the shower huh?." Jordan laughed quietly. "Girl I’m just speaking from my heart?" 

"I like when you get all poetic and yearny Jordan" That made him smile. "So you like seeing my heart shattered."

Despite yourself, a small laugh escaped you too. Jordan immediately caught it. 

"I missed that pretty smile" 

"Don't start." 

"Nah, because you been mean as hell since you walked in here." 

You rolled your eyes. "Maybe because you called me at two in the morning talking about feelings." 

"You came didn’t you?" 

You shoved his shoulder lightly. "Jordan." His smile widened. "What?" 

"You're annoying." 

"You still want me though." You opened your mouth before immediately closing it again. Jordan's grin only grew. "Exactly."

You hated that he had a point. The worst part was he knew it too. The room felt different now. Lighter than before, but somehow more tense. The anger wasn't carrying the conversation anymore. Now it was just the two of you sitting close enough to notice things you shouldn't have been noticing. The way his eyes lingered on you longer than necessary. The way he kept looking away and then looking back. The way your heart betrayed you every time he smiled.

"Why you looking at me like that?" you finally asked.

 Jordan blinked. "Like what?"

 "You know exactly like what." His eyes traveled across your face for a second before he looked away. "Nah." 

"Liar." A low laugh escaped him. "You still know me too well." "Unfortunately." Another silence settled between you. It wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward, it was actually comforting. Years of resentment,longing, and things left unsaid sitting between you on that couch. 

Jordan leaned back and exhaled slowly. "You know what's crazy?" You looked over at him. "What?" A faint smile tugged at his lips. "I ain’t even think you’d slide, I thought you were gonna hang up" That made you laugh. "I shole did that last time” "Exactly, evil like I said." He rolled his eyes. "What if I was on my last straw?" You laughed harder this time and shook your head. Jordan just stared at you as the sound filled the room. For the first time in months neither of you were arguing or defending yourselves. You all were just there. Together. The way you used to be. The way you hadn't been in a very long time. And maybe that was what scared you the most. Because sitting next to him like this suddenly felt easy. Like no time had passed at all.

“You still so gorgeous Y/N, even in the hello kitty pajamas”

“Thank you” you playfully rolled your eyes “I remember when you bought them”

“I remember when I took them off of you” he mumbled the liquor he took to the head prior to your arrival hitting him finally. “And you had that pink set on underneath” he reminisced as your cheeks heated up. You couldn’t help the wet spot forming in your panties as his hand caressed your thighs. Liquor turned Jordan into an insatiable being, but you couldn’t act like you didn’t like his boldness. 

“You be doing that type of shit for that nigga?” He said gripping and groping your breasts, your nipples hardening as the cold air in the room cooled your now hot body. “You get nasty for him like you do me?”

“No…” you admitted lowly, turning your face away from him.

“That’s what I thought” he mumbled lifting your shirt up “take this off honey” 

“Jordan—“ you said, coming to the realization that you did indeed have a man at home. Jordan made your head so fuzzy everything went out the window with him. “What mama? Cmon take it off” he said helping you lift it above your head and off your body. Your breasts fully exposed to the cold air as he took his shirt off too. “Mm you look so good, so fucking sexy for me” he planted kisses up and down your torso as his body made contact with yours.

His warm skin pressing against yours comforted you to say the least. You’d be lying if you said this wasn’t exactly where you wanted to be and more. You missed laying skin to skin with jordan, cooking breakfast for him butt naked before he left for practice, him coming to your college volleyball games and doing a terrible job at being inconspicuous.

You missed jordan. 

So of course you melted right into him, as he nibbled and licked and kissed all over your body. Seeming as if he was making up for loss time, making sure no where he could see was unkissed. He got up leaving you on the couch, he quickly slid off your panties and pajama pants in one motion discarding them else where in his living room. He gon on his knees letting your lower body hang off the couch as he put his face in between your legs.

“It still taste as good as I remember?”

“You wanna find out?”

Jordan smirked as he dove into your soaking core, his tongue licking a slow stripe up your clit making you shiver. “Missed you so much” you gasped out “needed this so bad.” You grabbed his small fro and pushed his head deeper a bit as his licks sped up, sucking on your clit every so often. The moans you were eliciting filled the room, reminding you of all the times he’s eaten you out on this same exact couch.

“This pussy still taste so good” he hummed, slipping a finger inside, his long digits hitting all the right spots. “It’s still mine y/n?” He asked raising a brow. You didn’t even want to begin to answer that. “Is it?” He sped up, turning your brain into mush, even if you wanted to answer you couldn’t. “Mmhm” you quickly answered feeling your orgasm approach. 

Jordan quickly took out his fingers with a smile and stood up, his boxers pulled slightly down as he aligned himself up with your core. “You ready?” He asked, waiting for your nod as he put his you-soaked digits into your mouth slowly pushing in and out as he slid his dick inside of you. His eyes rolled in bliss as he met your heavenly walls once again, swearing that you’d only gotten tighter since you alls last encounter.

“Damn Y/N” he mumbled lost in your body, it’d been too long since he had some of you. Once he was in completely, he stayed there for a moment letting you feel the twitches of his dick inside you. “You feel that? You see what you do to me?” He asked thrusting in and out of you now, his thumb rubbing at your clit. You nodded, not even realizing how much you missed the way Jordan fucked you. The way he knew your body inside and out. He was such an intuitive lover.

“It feels so good baby—“ you breathed out grabbing onto his arm, digging your nails into his bicep. “Mm you know I like that shit baby, grip me harder it’s okay” he cooed as he roughly hit your gspot everytime, his head thrown back in pleasure. “You really tryna give this good ass pussy away” jordan breathed out “My good ass pussy away” 

“I’m not…” you mewled, trying not to get overwhelmed from all the pleasure, your orgasm building once again.

 “Then why you with that nigga huh? You gon leave him?” He asked slamming into you, your juices flying out as he did.

“Yes daddy!” You nearly screamed

“Good girl, stop giving my shit away okay?” He groaned as you continued squirting, making a mess all on his couch.

“I promise I won’t—“ you gasped as his thrusts got faster and faster, his own orgasm approaching quickly. “Can I?” He said looking down at you “I just missed you s-so much please Y/N.” You nodded wanting to feel him filling you up the brim. 

Jordan leaned down, kissing your neck softly as he came deep inside of you. Both of you all high off each other’s presence to care about anything else. He pulled out of you shortly after that, staring at your naked body in awe. “I missed you so bad. Fuck, Y/N” he sighed, grabbing something to clean you up. “Why does it have to sound like an inconvenience Jordan?” You giggled.

“Cause ion want this to be over, for you to go back to that nigga and us to be bad again”

“…it doesn’t have to be bad again” you shrugged “I think I’m over it now”

“Dick was that good?”

“Don’t push it”

summary: rarely ever letting jackie into your musical space, you need him for a song and he sees just how meticulous and calculated you are about your music. he’s smitten

warnings: none

word count: 4,238

Jackie Jackson x black!singer reader

——————————————-

The rain outside A&M Studios had been coming down since midnight, a steady, rhythmic drumming against the soundproofed walls that seemed to isolate the building from the rest of Los Angeles. Inside Studio B, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of jasmine tea, heated audio tubes, and the faint, sweet trace of cocoa butter. The clock on the wall read just past two in the morning, an hour where most of the world was asleep, but for you, the night was only halfway through. You sat on a plush velvet stool in the center of the live room, your hair pulled up loosely with a few curls framing your face, wearing a pair of oversized grey sweatpants and a vintage sweatshirt that swallowed your frame. Your bare feet were tucked under you, a yellow legal pad resting on your knees, scribbling furiously as you listened to the playback of the bridge for the fifth time in a row.

In the control room behind the heavy glass pane, your boyfriend Jackie sat back in a leather rolling chair, his fingers laced together behind his head as he watched you through the window. He had been brought in earlier that evening by your executive producer, who thought Jackie’s signature high-tenor harmonies would be the missing piece to the album’s emotional core. Jackie had agreed out of professional respect, not wanting to step on his lady’s toes, fully expecting to walk into a room dictated by the demands of a global pop icon. You were the biggest artist in the world right now, selling out arenas globally, shattering records, and dominating the charts in a way that reminded him intensely of the whirlwind his own family had experienced. He had expected an entourage, a demanding attitude, and maybe an hour of actual work before you left the heavy lifting to the engineers.

Instead, your team had been dismissed hours ago. You had personally thanked the assistant engineer and told him to go home and get some sleep, promising you could handle the board yourself or just use the rough playbacks until morning. Now it was just you and Jackie, and he was completely, utterly mesmerized, not getting this side of you when it came to your music.

He watched you lift a hand, signaling the main engineer’s board to pause. You chewed on the cap of your pen, your brow furrowed in deep concentration. Jackie had never seen a woman look so stunning while being so intensely focused. You didn't have a stitch of makeup on, your skin glowing under the dim, warm amber studio lights, and there was a pure, unfiltered vulnerability about you that the public never got to see. On television and on stage, you were a fierce, untouchable force of nature. In here, you were just a sweet girl who loved music down to her very bones, fighting for perfection.

You flipped a switch on the talkback mic, your voice coming through the control room speakers soft, a little raspy from hours of singing, and incredibly endearing. “Jackie baby, can we try that third bar one more time? I think the harmony is just a quarter-note too late on the transition. It needs to melt into the chord, not step on it.”

Jackie smiled, his chest tightening with a warmth he hadn't anticipated when he signed up for this session. He stood up, stretching his long legs, and walked through the heavy soundproof door into the live room with you. He didn't pick up his headphones; he just walked over to your stool, leaning his hip against the edge of the piano that sat nearby. You looked up at him, your big eyes blinking, a sudden flash of bashfulness crossing your face. For all your immense fame, whenever Jackie looked at you directly or praised you, you tended to shrink back a little, your cheeks warming, revealing an incredibly shy center that made him want to wrap his arms around you and never let go.

“You’re a tough boss, you know that?” Jackie teased softly, his voice a smooth, comforting purr in the quiet room. He reached out, his long fingers gently tapping the edge of your legal pad. “That’s the sixth time we’ve looked at that exact bar, pretty baby. It sounds incredible already.”

“It’s not right yet,” you murmured, looking down at your notes, suddenly self-conscious about how meticulous you were being. You didn't want him to think you were difficult to work with, but the music mattered too much to compromise. “Michael told me once that if a melody doesn't make your chest ache when it hits the transition, it means it’s just notes, not magic. I want the magic, Jackie. I need the bassline to slide right under your vocal so they feel like one heartbeat.”

Jackie’s expression softened, a look of profound admiration settling into his features. Hearing you mention his little brother made a piece of the puzzle click into place. He knew that exact look. He had grown up with that look. It was the absolute dedication to the craft, the refusal to settle for ninety-nine percent when one hundred was attainable. But where Michael’s perfectionism could sometimes carry an edge of intense pressure, yours was wrapped in this quiet, humble sweetness. You weren't yelling or demanding; you were just gently, persistently pursuing the beautiful sound in your head.

“You really are something else,” Jackie said, his voice dropping an octave as he stepped closer to your stool. He reached down, taking the pen from your fingers and setting it on the piano. He captured your small hand in his, his thumb tracing the soft skin of your knuckles. “You look tired, sweet girl. Why don't we take a little break? The music isn't going anywhere.”

“I just want it to be perfect for you,” you whispered, your eyes lifting to meet his. The shyness returned in full force, your long eyelashes fluttering as you looked at him. You felt so small next to him, so protected by his presence. “I don't want you to think I’m wasting your time.”

“Wasting my time?” Jackie let out a soft, low chuckle, shaking his head. “Mama, I’d sit in this room for the next three days straight just to watch you hum into that microphone. You couldn't waste my time if you tried.”

Your heart did a frantic little flutter at the nickname, the heat rising rapidly to your face. You bit your bottom lip, trying to look back down at your legal pad, but Jackie’s other hand came up, his warm fingers gently catching your chin. He guided your face back up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were dark, expressive, and completely filled with an affection that made your knees weak, even while sitting down.

Jackie was completely smitten. He had been from the moment you handed him a mug of tea the first time the two of you met during an album of him and his brothers you were helping write and produce. He had met women all over the globe, but none of them possessed this intoxicating mix of supreme talent and genuine, childlike innocence. You were a queen outside these walls, but right here, you were just his sweet girl, and he was drowning in how good it felt to be near you.

“Let’s hear what we have so far,” Jackie suggested, stepping back just enough to let you breathe, though his hand slid down to rest comfortably on the small of your back. “Come into the control room with me. Let’s sit on the couch and just listen without trying to fix it for five minutes. Can you do that for me?”

You hesitated, looking at the blinking red light of the recording monitor, then back to him. “Okay,” you agreed softly, letting out a tiny sigh that sounded like a contented purr. “Just five minutes.”

Jackie guided you into the control room, the heavy door clicking shut behind you and sealing out the rest of the world. The main playback monitor was glowing, casting a deep violet hue over the room. Instead of sitting at the mixing board, Jackie led you straight to the large, plush leather sofa against the back wall. He sat down first, then tapped his thigh, looking at you with a devastatingly charming smile.

“Come here,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched. Even though you had been spending the last few weeks getting closer to him, the sheer effect of Jackie Jackson’s charm never failed to turn you into a nervous wreck. You stepped forward, your bare feet sinking into the thick studio rug, and carefully sat down beside him. Before you could settle, Jackie’s arm wound around your waist, pulling you snugly against his side. He pulled a soft knit blanket off the back of the sofa and draped it over both of your laps, tucking you into him until your head naturally rested right against his chest.

You could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath his button-down shirt. You curled your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, your shyness making you want to hide your face against his shoulder. Jackie rested his chin on the top of your head, inhaling the sweet scent of your hair, his hand gently rubbing your arm through the thick sleeve of your sweatshirt.

He reached over with his free hand, hitting the remote playback switch on the small coffee table. The studio monitors came alive, filling the room with the rough mix of the track you had been slaving over.

The song was built around a heavy, hypnotic bassline that locked instantly into a smooth, mid-tempo groove, heavily inspired by the late-night R&B sounds that were currently redefining the radio. It was warm, sensual, and deeply romantic. As the music swelled, your own voice floated out of the speakers, rich, velvety, and flawless, delivering a melody that felt like a warm embrace. Then, Jackie’s tenor entered, sliding perfectly underneath your lead vocals, creating a harmony so tight and beautiful it made the hairs on his arms stand up.

As the music played, Jackie didn't look at the speakers. He kept his eyes closed, just feeling the way your body relaxed against him as the song progressed. The lyrics spoke of a love that lifted you above the madness of the world, a love that was a natural high, clean and intoxicating. It was exactly how he felt right now, sitting in the dark with you while the rain poured outside.

“Listen to that,” Jackie whispered into your hair, his hand sliding down to interlock his fingers with yours under the blanket. “You hear how our voices sound together, pretty baby? That’s not just notes. You were right. That’s magic.”

You smiled against his chest, your heart swelling with a quiet happiness. “It does sound nice,” you admitted softly, your voice barely audible over the music. “I just wanted to make sure your parts shone through. I didn't want my voice to drown you out.”

“Mama, nobody is worried about that,” Jackie said, chuckling softly as he tightened his grip around you. “You could never drown me out. If anything, you make me sound better. You make everything in here better.”

When the song faded out into the quiet hiss of the tape machine, the room fell into a beautiful, heavy silence. The only sound left was the distant roll of thunder outside and the soft sound of your shared breathing. You shifted slightly, your shyness returning as you realized how close you were, how intimately you were wrapped up in him. You began to pull back just an inch, your cheeks burning in the dim violet light, but Jackie wouldn't let you go.

He moved his hand from your waist up to your cheek, his warm thumb brushing over your cheekbone, tilting your face up so you had to look at him. Your eyes were wide, a little startled, your lips parted slightly.

“You are so beautiful, you know that?” Jackie murmured, his eyes scanning every inch of your face with a reverence that made your stomach do flips. “It drives me crazy how you do that.”

“Do what?” you whispered, your voice trembling just a little.

“How you can command an entire stadium of people, how you can make music that moves millions, and then you come in here and look at me like you’re afraid I’m gonna bite you,” he said, his lips twitching into a tender smile. “You’re so sweet, mama. So shy. I love it. I love everything about you.”

You hid your face in his neck for a brief second, letting out a small, embarrassed whine that made him laugh out loud. “Jackie, please don't tease me,” you muttered into his skin, your hands tightening on his shirt. “I’m just... I’m not used to this.”

“Used to what? Someone appreciating you?” Jackie asked, his voice softening into something incredibly tender. “Someone seeing the real you? Not the superstar on the posters, but the sweet girl who gets worried about a quarter-note transition at three in the morning?”

You looked back up, your eyes searching his. “Yes,” you confessed softly. “Everyone always wants something from me. A hit song, a photo, a favor. With you... I feel like I can just breathe. Like I don't have to be perfect all the time, even if I try to be.”

Jackie’s heart cracked wide open. He leaned down, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You don't ever have to be perfect for me, sweet girl. You’re already everything I could ever want. Just like this.”

The proximity was dizzying. You could smell his cologne, a clean, woody scent that blended perfectly with the ambient warmth of the studio. Your eyes drifted down to his lips, and Jackie didn't miss the cue. He tilted his head slightly, closing the small distance between you, and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was incredibly gentle, a soft, slow pressure that made your soul sigh. Jackie wasn't rushing; he was taking his time, tasting you, letting you know without words how deeply smitten he was. His lips were impossibly soft, moving against yours with a tender rhythm that matched the slow groove of the song you had just listened to. You let out a tiny, breathless sound against his mouth, your hands moving up from his chest to rest timidly against the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in the soft hairs there.

Jackie groaned softly at the touch, his hand on your waist pulling you flush against his lap, deepening the kiss just a fraction. He shifted, his lips leaving yours for a split second to press a flurry of cute, sweet little pecs all over your face. He kissed the tip of your nose, making you giggle softly, then moved to the corner of your eyes, your forehead, and down the soft line of your jaw. Every little kiss was accompanied by a soft murmur against your skin.

“My sweet girl,” he mumbled, his lips brushing against your cheekbone. “So beautiful. My pretty baby.”

You were smiling so hard your cheeks ached, your shyness melting away into pure, unadulterated bliss under his affection. You buried your face in his chest again, your hands smoothing down his shoulders, feeling the solid warmth of him. You felt so incredibly safe, so completely adored.

Jackie ran his fingers through your hair, loosening the curls even more, letting them fall around your shoulders. He kissed the top of your head again, his chest rising and falling with a deep, contented breath.

“So,” he said softly, a playful tint returning to his voice as he rubbed his hand up and down your back. “Are we going to fix that third bar now, or are you gonna let your boyfriend take you home and get some sleep?”

You peeked up at him through your lashes, a beautiful, radiant smile breaking across your face at the word boyfriend. It was the first time he had used it so casually, and the thrill of it went straight to your toes.

“I think...” you started, your voice sweet and teasing, “...the third bar can wait until tomorrow afternoon.”

Jackie beamed, his white teeth flashing in the dim light. “That’s my girl,” he said, leaning down to give you one more lingering, sweet kiss on your lips before shifting to help you stand up. “Come on, mama. Let’s get our coats. The rain’s letting up, and I’m taking you home.”

As you stood up and reached for your jacket, Jackie wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder as you both looked at the empty studio booth. The world outside was waiting for the global popstar, but in this room, under the violet lights, you had found a natural high that neither of you ever wanted to come down from.

The rain had indeed slowed to a gentle mist by the time Jackie pulled his keys from his pocket, but neither of you seemed to be in any actual hurry to break the spell of the room. He kept one arm tucked securely around your waist as you walked back over to the soundboard to shut down the monitors. Watchful and quiet, he stood right at your shoulder while you meticulously flicked the switches in order, saving the digital files and locking the tape reels away. Even in your tired state, your hands moved over the equipment with a practiced, protective reverence. It was the exact same way he had seen his brothers handle their master tapes after a long session, treating the music like a fragile, living thing.

“You really don't miss a single detail, do you, sweet girl?” Jackie murmured, his voice low and vibrating against your ear as he reached over to pick up your yellow legal pad from the piano bench, tucking it safely under his arm so you wouldn't forget it.

You glanced up at him, your cheeks warming again under his steady gaze as you pulled your oversized denim jacket over your shoulders. “I just feel like if I don't take care of it, nobody else will. When you’re at a certain level, people start treating the music like a product. They want it fast, and they want it loud. But I want it to be right. I owe that to the people who listen to it, and I owe it to myself.”

Jackie’s eyes softened completely, a proud, tender smile curving his lips. He reached out, his fingers catching the collar of your jacket and gently tugging you an inch closer to him in the dim, empty studio. “Mama, you don't owe anybody anything but that beautiful soul of yours. But the way you protect your art... it’s beautiful. It really is. It reminds me so much of Michael, just that pure hunger for perfection. But you carry it so softly.”

Hearing him say that made your heart do a nervous, happy flip. You looked down at your sneakers, your fingers nervously playing with the drawstring of your sweatshirt. “Does it make me difficult to work with? Be honest, Jackie. I know I made you sing that same line a dozen times.”

Jackie let out a soft, rich chuckle that echoed in the quiet room. He stepped fully into your space, his large hands coming up to cup your face, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones. The warmth of his skin instantly made you relax, your eyelashes fluttering as you looked up at him.

“Pretty baby, listen to me,” Jackie said, his voice dripping with absolute sincerity. “You could make me sing that line a hundred more times, and I’d smile through every single take. You aren't difficult. You’re brilliant. And you’re the sweetest thing that’s ever walked into this studio. Don't you ever apologize for knowing exactly what you want.”

To emphasize his words, he leaned down and pressed a warm, lingering kiss right to the center of your forehead. You let out a tiny, soft sigh, your eyes closing automatically as you leaned into his touch. Before you could even open them again, Jackie was pressing another sweet, gentle peck to the tip of your nose, then one on your left cheek, and another on your right, making you break into a shy, quiet giggle that bounced off the soundproof walls.

“Jackie,” you whispered, your hands coming up to rest timidly against his chest, your face completely flushed. “You’re making it hard for me to breathe.”

“Good,” he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing the soft line of your jaw before he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes full of playful mischief. “Because you’ve been taking my breath away since I met you, so it’s only fair.”

You hid your face against his chest, your forehead resting right against his collarbone as you let out an embarrassed little groan. Even though you were used to the bright lights of stadium stages and the screams of thousands of fans, the direct, unwavering affection of this one man completely turned you inside out. You were so deeply, terribly shy when it came to romance, and Jackie seemed to find every single piece of that shyness utterly irresistible.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you, holding you close against his chest for a long moment while the final hum of the studio equipment faded into complete silence. He loved the contrast of it—the global pop icon who could shake the industry with a single vocal run, hiding her blushing face in his shirt like a timid schoolgirl.

“Come on, sweet girl,” Jackie whispered into your hair, gently rubbing your back. “Let’s go before the sun catches up with us.”

He took your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours, and led you down the quiet, dimly lit hallways of A&M Studios. The building was completely deserted now, save for the security guard at the front desk who gave you both a respectful, knowing nod as Jackie pushed the heavy glass doors open.

The L.A. air outside was cool and crisp, washed clean by the midnight storm. The pavement was slick, reflecting the amber glow of the streetlights like a mirror. Jackie walked you carefully down the concrete steps, his grip on your hand firm and steady, guiding you toward his sleek, dark sports car parked under the awning. He opened the passenger door for you with an effortless, old-school gallantry, waiting until you were tucked safely inside before sliding your legal pad onto the back seat and closing the door with a solid, quiet thud.

When he climbed into the driver’s seat beside you, the intimate atmosphere of the studio seemed to follow him right into the car. The scent of his cologne filled the small space, clean and rich, mixing with the cool air from outside. He didn't start the engine right away. Instead, he turned in his seat, resting one arm over the steering wheel as he looked at you. You were curled up against the passenger door, the oversized sweatshirt pulled down over your hands, looking out at the damp street with a soft, tired smile.

“You okay, mama?” he asked softly, his hand reaching across the console to rest on your knee.

You turned your head to look at him, your eyes soft and heavy with exhaustion. “I’m perfect, Jackie. Just really happy.”

“Yeah?” His thumb traced a gentle circle over the fabric of your sweatpants. “What’s making you so happy?”

“Just... this,” you admitted, the shyness creeping back into your voice as you looked at his fingers against your knee. “The song sounds exactly the way I dreamed it would. And having you on it... it makes it special. I don't usually let people into my process like this. It’s hard for me to trust people with my music.”

Jackie’s expression turned incredibly serious, the playful smirk completely vanishing from his face. He leaned across the console, his hand moving from your knee up to the back of your neck, his fingers gently tangling in the loose curls at the base of your skull. He drew you toward him, and you met him halfway, your hearts beating in a matching, lazy rhythm.

“I know how much it takes for you to open up,” Jackie said, his voice a low, heavy caress in the quiet car. “And I don't take it for granted for one second. You trusted me with your music, pretty baby, and I’m gonna make sure I take care of it. Just like I’m gonna take care of you.”

He leaned in and kissed you, his lips parted slightly as they pressed against yours with a deep, slow tenderness that made your fingers instantly tighten against his jacket. It wasn't a rushed kiss; it was heavy with promise, a quiet declaration in the dark of the early morning. You melted completely against him, your shyness dissolving into the sheer warmth of his mouth, your breath hitching when his thumb gently stroked the side of your throat.

When he finally pulled away, his lips lingered against yours for a split second, pressing two more tiny, sweet pecs against the corner of your mouth that made you smile into the kiss.

“Now,” Jackie whispered, his forehead resting against yours as he let out a soft breath. “Let’s get you home to bed, sweet girl. We’ve got a masterpiece to finish tomorrow.”

—————————

HER FIRST BIRTHDAY (early 2000s au)

MASTERLIST WC : 2.6k Summary: trying to celebrate their baby girl birthday without the day getting ruined.(mission impossible) A/N : just something cute and sweet! Needing to warm up while i finish major moore pt3🤍 (should be out sometime tomorrow or the day after fr this time😗✌️)

Synopsis: funny texts that you exchange with your uncle, Michael Jackson

Pairings: uncle!michael x niece!reader

Note: reader is jermaine's daughter, also Michael is alive in this au so keeping in mind that I'm posting this on June 25th really made me cry. Ahh, if only he was living and enjoying his life with his kids and family. Also, def inspired by @humannaturess, check out her amazing work.