shaunamilfman

[shaunamilfman]

wicked and weary [2]

Pairing: Jackie Taylor x f!r x Shauna Shipman Summary: Jackie's getting a little too far into investigative journalism. To the surprise of absolutely no one, Shauna has opinions about it. Someone from your past makes a visit. note: minors dni. warning for graphic descriptions of violence and probably smut in the series in general Masterlist

“Why are Melissa, the girl from my group project last semester, Taissa, that boy Shauna almost hit with her car last week, and Sarah Michelle Gellar all suspects?” You ask exasperatedly, looking over Jackie’s shoulder as she writes out what you’re reluctant to consider notes. There are other names that you don’t recognize that you’re sure Jackie has some kind of twisted logic behind. This really wasn’t what you were expecting to come back from class to.

Jackie certainly doesn’t have the same qualms about it, with the word “murder” written across the top of the paper in pink glitter pen surrounded by swirling lines of calligraphy. Then there are the hearts, the knives, the question marks, a man in a cartoonish ski mask, and something that looks suspiciously like Shauna’s car with a blocky stick figure jumping out of the way. You think she put more effort into the heading than anything else so far.

Her dedication to justice might be impressive if you didn’t know the sole cause for it was her reluctance to actually study for her exam. Sure, you’ve been there, but it was a strange thing to procrastinate on if you do say so yourself. She really would do anything to avoid propping open her textbook. It’s been sitting on her desk doing nothing but collecting dust for days. Hell, she’s even started to use it as a coaster.

“They’re all plotting against me,” Jackie says seriously, leaning back in her chair so she can rest her head comfortably against your stomach as she looks up at you. She smiles as you grab her chin and lean down to kiss her gently, the kind of affection you always save for her most ridiculous moments. You can’t help how cute she looks utterly insane.

“You’re still that mad at Sarah—”

“She shouldn’t look like that in a movie my girlfriends see.”

“She looks like that all the time,” Shauna argues from her desk, her voice full of wicked amusement as she looks over her assigned readings. You know she doesn’t actually care about the whole thing—she had gotten in trouble over the same movie, after all—but she took a lot of enjoyment from making Jackie jealous. Shauna didn’t take nearly as much enjoyment in being jealous herself. 

Go figure.

“What does that have to do with your professor?” You ask.

“She’s probably killed professors in, like, three different movies by now.”

“And Melissa?”

“She’s plotting something,” Jackie says, circling her name three times and drawing devil horns around it. Shauna makes a noise that sounds like an agreement.

“She can’t even plot her way around an essay,” you mutter, earning a snort of laughter from Shauna.

“That’s what she wants you to think,” Shauna says darkly.

“Taissa’s also a suspect,” you remind her. You think that might have slipped her mind during the conversation.

Shauna whirls around in her chair to look at you. “Taissa?” She doesn’t even bother to hide her disbelief. “Taissa murdered your professor, Jackie, really?”

“She’s shady,” Jackie defends.

“You’re just jealous,” you argue back, but Jackie quickly shakes her head as she points to other names on the list as if to prove otherwise. “Jackie, these are just people who wear hoodies.”

If the murder got solved, it definitely wouldn’t be thanks to Jackie. She really ought to stick to committing murders rather than trying to solve them. You really don’t understand her sometimes. Jackie came up with such elaborate plans to set other people up for your murders, manipulated you for months until you fell in love with her, and then she does this. She must be bored, you decide. Maybe you could find someone to kill a town over for her.

You haven’t taken them out recently enough.

The three of you had left Ghostface behind in Wiskayok, but you couldn’t quite kick the urge one way or another. Maybe you might’ve been able to push it down enough to go on functioning in a normal society, content with the monotony of grocery stores, office jobs, and taxes. Never wanting for the familiar feeling of your fingers curling around that handle, but your girlfriends certainly couldn’t. 

Not Shauna and the constant thirst for violence lying just beneath the surface, barely hidden behind the veneer of civility she wore so well. Quiet and bookish—the last one you would ever suspect. Thumbing through paperback classics with a thoughtfulness that disguised her wandering thoughts about gutting the man sitting in the corner of the library whose eyes had lingered on you for a moment too long. You caught glimpses of it if you knew where to look, but few bothered to look past the surface when it came to Shauna. They mistook her soft voice and the journal constantly beneath her fingertips for a harmlessness that was never there.

Then there was Jackie. Sweet, innocent Jackie. Sure, she could play mean girl with the best of them, but she rarely bothered unless it was in defense of the two of you. Jackie was soft, delightfully so, the girl that everyone adored even when they didn’t want to. Shauna was proof enough of that. She understood better than anyone how to pull someone in, to make them feel comfortable and safe right before she sunk the knife firmly between their ribs. You never saw her coming until it was too late, and sometimes even then you didn’t want to believe it. Jackie’s desires lay hidden, but never dormant. She loves to lay a trap that you don’t realize you’re stepping into until it’s gone off.

As a girlfriend and as a killer.

So every so often you find someone in the wrong place at the wrong time a few towns over. Someone you can justify killing. Maybe they bumped into Shauna hard enough to send her stumbling and didn’t say sorry, or maybe they snuck a glance down the V of Jackie’s shirt. You didn’t care much about the morality of it all, but you liked having a reason for it. When either of them brought you out for it, they didn’t seem to have one, but you didn’t mind when they were the ones choosing. You think they might like that a bit more. The senselessness of it all. Whatever made your girlfriends happy, after all.

And, truthfully, you enjoyed raking in the rewards they gave you after. Maybe reward wasn’t the best choice of words, given how bruised up they left you afterwards as a result of their excitement, but the bone-deep exhaustion you felt afterward felt like a victory.

The thought was exciting enough that you silently swore to yourself that you would be taking them out soon to blow off some steam. Maybe it would help Jackie calm down a little, with how worked up she’s gotten over her professor’s death. It’s not like she really cares about him at all, but it was close enough to home that she couldn’t help but be a little interested in it. An excuse to avoid studying or not, she was a little too interested in the whole thing for you to be comfortable ignoring it.

“Well,” Shauna muses, slowly crossing the room to take the spot next to you. She leans down, one arm over Jackie’s shoulder to rest against the desk. “You’ve certainly written a bunch of names down.”

She’s no help.

You give up, walking off to flop down on your bed with a groan.

…

“Shut up,” you mutter, nudging Shauna’s shoulder with your own as you walk beside her. Shauna has been toeing the line of being too smug or too stuck in her head all day, bouncing back and forth like a pinball. It's driving you nuts, but that's Shauna for you. 

She’s smirking back at you, meeting your eyes without a hint of shame. The look on her face was pure mischief, nothing like the threatening smirk you’ve seen before. Either way, you can’t help the way your pulse picks up.

“Why should I?” It’s as much an invitation as it is a question.

You roll your eyes, but the way her eyes linger on your lips is enough to make you reconsider being annoyed. Shauna bumps your shoulder with hers this time, just hard enough to be goading as she waits for your reaction with an air of excitement. You almost groan aloud, just barely managing to hold it back. Daring you to push back or give in. Either would serve her purposes.

It was inevitable that Shauna would end up in one of her little moods, especially with how busy Jackie’s been lately investigating the murder. Shauna never took well to Jackie paying anyone but her attention at the best of times—sometimes even getting upset when she thinks that Jackie’s been kissing you longer than her—so watching Jackie spend so much time on someone else’s kill has been driving her insane.

You were the one left to deal with the fallout of that one, the bruises she's left across your body a testament to that fact. Someone should really start making Shauna jealous more often, actually. Shauna was never more alive than when she was slowly unraveling because someone or something had dared to take up your attention.

You’ve caught her sullenly writing in her journal more times than Shauna would care to admit lately, glaring at an unaware Jackie out of the corner of her eyes. Even if Jackie found out who had killed her professor, there was a growing certainty in your heart that Shauna would kill them before Jackie even got the chance to decide what she wanted to do with the information. Not that you would stop her.

Especially not when she grabs your arm, yanking you clean off the sidewalk and down one of the maintenance roads behind a building. She's on you before you even think to ask her what she's doing. 

“Are you going to tell me to shut up again?” Shauna asks, her voice low as she presses you back against the wall behind you. You glance around absently to assure yourself that no one's watching, but you don’t believe you would’ve stopped even if there had been someone looking back at you.

“I might,” you say, reaching up and tangling your fingers in her hair. She gasps as you pull down, arching her head back as you lean in to nip at her throat. “Depends on what you say next.”

Shauna scoffs, a breathless noise that doesn’t stop her from pressing you more firmly against the wall.

“You get flustered so easily,” you accuse, tugging harder at Shauna’s resulting dismissal. It’s not like it’s a lie, not with the flush creeping up the back of her neck no matter how hard she would like to pretend otherwise. 

“Do not,” she mutters, fingers curling around your wrist and pulling your hand out of her hair. 

You let the strands slide through your fingers regretfully, only to quickly be soothed by the press of her lips against one of your fingertips. It brings a pleased smile to your face as you lean forward, but Shauna quickly puts an end to that with a firm hand pressed against your sternum. Her fingers glide across your skin on the way to your neck, fingers curled loosely over your throat just long enough to be a threat before she tilts your chin up and to the side as she leans in closer.

Shauna’s other hand lies heavily on your shoulder, her palm pressing into those initials carved into your skin like they could save her. That might be Shauna’s favorite part of you, her favorite mark she’s left you with, and there were many to choose from. 

Most of them hers. 

“Shauna,” you say softly as she mouths at a mark Jackie had left just below the collar of your shirt. She's insistent, like she could overwrite it if she just tried hard enough. She was more annoyed at Jackie than you realized if this was what she was resorting to. “We shouldn't…” 

“Shut up,” she quotes back mockingly, barely letting the words pass her lips before there's a piercing, sucking pain as she latches on top of already sore skin like she's trying to draw blood. 

Your little vampire is on another mission. The thought seems fitting: she does love to bite. 

No sooner does the thought cross your mind than Shauna's teeth sink into your skin, just deep enough to make you cry out as you clutch at her shoulders. Your eyes fly open in shock, just long enough to catch what you momentarily swear was a flutter of movement just out of the corner of your eye before you dismiss it. 

You push Shauna back, sending her stumbling back in shocked anger. She lurches back toward you, hands braced on either side of your body as she stares you down intently. Whatever she finds is enough to have her backing down, her arms falling limply to her sides as she huffs irritably. 

“Boring,” she accuses, trying not to sound as disappointed as she feels. She seems mollified by the way you wince when you adjust your shirt to cover that bite mark she's left you with. Proof that she's left yet another undeniable claim on you. 

“Weren't you the one who wanted to go find Jackie?”

“You distracted me.” Like it was your fault. 

“I'm not the one with an attitude. She can probably hear your skulking a mile away.”

“I don't have—” Shauna gives up denying it halfway through and changes gears when she realizes it isn't worth it to lie. “Why does she care about that loser anyway? Killed her professor, and they couldn't even be original about it. I did it first.”

“I know, Shauna,” you say dryly, reaching out a hand to rest on her shoulder. 

“Don't patronize me. I'm not your problem.” She doesn't try to shrug your hand off. 

“You're always my problem.” You cup her chin, forcing her to look you in the eyes as she frowns back at you. “Just like Jackie running around playing detective is my problem too.” 

“Don't sound so pleased,” Shauna mutters, a smile on her lips small enough that she still has room to deny it. It's always a pleasure to see the way such a simple twitch of her lips can light up her whole demeanor, from the broody girl in the corner of the room to something only you and Jackie recognize. 

“Jackie's just bored,” you say, resting your hand on the back of Shauna's neck as you play with the little hairs there. Shauna shivers at the touch before leaning into it, her palms resting on your hips as she buries her head into your shoulder and breathes in the scent of your shampoo. “She'll get over it soon.” 

“She'd better.” Shauna starts to pull out of your grasp, not out of irritation but out of a restlessness born of uncertainty. 

She can't stand being made to question her place in anything. Jackie was always so certain of that kind of thing, so sure. Shauna was the one you had to reassure. She adjusts the way her flannel sits against her neck. An anxious tick that ends with her holding tightly to the end of her sleeves as she pulls them taut. 

“You know how she gets. Anything to avoid studying.” 

“I don't… like this,” She says it slowly, meaningfully. You're sure Shauna thinks this is her being emotional. Whatever, as long as she's trying to express something. It's more than you've gotten out of her all week. 

“Because she's been busy or because it's someone else's handiwork?” You can almost hear her big brain working as she considers the question. 

“Both,” she says finally. “But mostly the second.” 

Leave it to Shauna to resent not having the sharpest knife in the room. 

“She wasn't impressed about the whole thing,” you offer hopefully. 

“Yeah, well, she shouldn't be anything. I don't like the way she looks at that stupid board.”

“She’s excited. It’s been a while since she had a puzzle like that.”

“It's not a game,” Shauna insists. “And she's too excited.”

“Jackie always comes back after she's done chasing her lead.” 

The chase was half the fun for her. Slowly mapping out where a target would be before you or Shauna even knew who she chose. There's been one too many trips to the mall that suddenly turned into something more. You were sure Jackie was planning on presenting whoever it was to Shauna as a gift, but you were less and less sure that Shauna could make it that long without snapping. The girl was already running on fumes, and it's only been a few days. 

“Until she doesn't.” 

Your eyes widen. Shit. She was serious. “Shauna—” 

“Don't Shauna me. This feels different, and you know it. I'm not going to sit here while she chases them around.”

“You're going to… what?” You ask exasperatedly. “Beat her to it? Kill them first?”

“If I have to,” Shauna says defensively. “First, we're taking her home. She's been out all day. She woke up before us. Before us.”

“You know how she'll be…” You're starting to dread getting out of bed this morning. Here you were, stuck between a knife and a hard place. 

“Well, she should've thought about that before—” 

“She's not replacing us,” you interrupt, watching as Shauna practically deflates at the words. 

Her eyes dart around guiltily, refusing to meet your own. 

“It doesn't matter. Not as long as she keeps chasing around someone that isn't us.”

“She's trying to protect us, Shauna. In her own way. You know that.”

“Maybe you need protecting, but I don't. I can take care of myself.”

“Shauna,” you murmur. 

Shauna turns around and marches back to the sidewalk like you hadn't even spoken. 

That went well. 

You rush after her to catch up, slowing down only to match her brisk pace as she storms off toward a more populated part of campus. This was normally where you'd start talking about something you learned in class if only to fill the silence, but you half expect that Shauna would bite your head off for it. 

The silence lingers, heavy enough to be uncomfortable, a stark reflection of the companionable stroll you'd shared up until the alley. You can feel the way Shauna keeps looking over at you, almost willing you to speak so much that she doesn't have to dwell on why you aren't. 

“Careful,” Shauna says gruffly, grabbing your arm and keeping you upright as the toe of your shoe catches an uneven patch of concrete and sends you stumbling forward. She squeezes your arm firmly before dropping it again. 

The closest you would be getting to an apology. You look up to thank her, only to finally find what you've been looking for. 

“Well,” you say, nudging Shauna. “There she is.” 

Shauna stops on a dime, jaw tensing as she catches sight of Jackie cornered by a familiar-looking reporter about the same time Jackie catches sight of the two of you. 

Jackie shot the reporter a smile. The smile. The one she saved for people she didn't want to talk to but was too polite to say otherwise. Or maybe just too worried about the kind of rumors that seeming unwilling to talk to local press could bring. It wasn't like the three of you could afford bad press at the moment. 

Someone really ought to tell Shauna Shipman that. 

She storms over there like someone lit a fire under her ass, and you can already see the headlines now. 

Wiskayok Survivor Gone Rogue? 

Or something equally stupid. The campus paper wasn't exactly known for its contributions to literature. Or the truth. What it did have was alliteration. 

Wiskayok Woman: A Walking Warning? 

Maybe that one. Either way, Shauna was going to end up on the front page of the campus paper by the morning if you didn't stop her. That's if she was lucky. You remember seeing this woman sneaking around Wiskayok a few years ago. She was probably national news. You walk after Shauna faster.

You realize where you remember her from now: she was that idiot writing that book about how Travis was innocent. Her name was Stormy Winds or something equally ironic. You remember how much it cracked Shauna up every time she announced herself as she ran after you trying to get an interview in high school.

She was right, of course, but it pissed Jackie off to have her master plan questioned in such a public manner. Shauna would've made that connection before you, which was probably what set her off so fast in the first place. 

The day kept getting longer. 

The look of barely hidden relief on Jackie's face as you made your way over was enough for it to be worth it. You'll have to wait until later to grill her on where she was all day and what put that pinched look you saw earlier on her face. 

Stormy pushes past Jackie like last week's news the second you get close enough for her to make out your face in the crowd, snapping her fingers at the reluctant-looking cameraman behind her to follow her as she pushes her way past. Jackie follows quickly behind through the hole they made through the crowd, unsure whether to be relieved or offended as she slips her way behind Shauna.

The look on her face is calculating as she watches Stormy set up another intro on the fly, mirrored by the look Stormy’s giving you even as she gives you that patented fake smile. You have enough experience catching it on the news before she verbally decimates someone to know not to trust it, and that’s without the unfortunate experience of being on the other side of it more than once.

You weren’t aware that whatever was going on with the copycat killing was enough to bring Stormy Winds all the way back to New Jersey. She seemed like she had more than enough of the state that last time you saw her following Travis’s sentencing. There has to be more going on here than you knew about. Probably something to do with whatever was keeping Jackie acting like she was on the run from the law all day.

See, Jackie? This is why you share information instead of gallivanting off on your own. This was usually a Shauna problem. Now you’re being hounded on all sides.

“This is Stormy Winds, coming to you from the site of yet another gruesome murder by Ghostface, the killer that claimed ten victims back in Wiskayok only two years ago.”

Had they really killed ten people? You hadn’t realized how busy they were at the time.

“The supposed killer, Travis Martinez, is still locked away in prison for the most recent murders…” Stormy continues.

Murders? Shit. There’s been another one? That answers the question of why Jackie’s been MIA all day, at least. If only that felt like a comfort right now.

“…which raises the question: is this a copycat, or is an innocent man locked away?” Stormy raises the microphone over to your face as the cameraman steps closer to frame you in view, that smug little grin on her face that you so wanted to smack off of it. “Y/N L/N, as the previous number one suspect and as a student at the university where these new murders are now occurring, what do you think about it all?”

Oh, that’s where this is going. 

You were probably asking too much by expecting to make your way out of this unscathed. Out of all the stupid things your girlfriends have done over the years, killing exclusively people you knew to set you up as some misguided form of affection has to be the worst of it. It’s still coming back to bite you all these years later.

“I’m surprised you’re asking me my opinion instead of calling me a liar in the press,” you say simply. Shauna grins sharply.

“I think you got the wrong guy,” Stormy shoots back, eyes narrowing as she looks at you.

“I didn’t get anyone. I wasn’t even at that party.”

“And how interesting was that. Since all my sources confirm you were present at another party where—”

“Why are you, like, obsessed with her?” Jackie butts in, head carefully tilted to the side in an expression of confusion. There’s a swell of laughter through the crowd that clearly puts Stormy on edge.

“Why are you so unconcerned about the fact that your little friend here got away with murd–” Stormy trails off with a shriek as someone lunges toward her, held back only by Jackie grabbing onto Shauna’s waist before she could make contact.

Shauna keeps struggling long enough for the source of the resistance to click in her head before she moodily goes limp and lets herself be pushed away. She glares weakly at the two of you and then seriously at the suddenly too smug reporter who brushes imaginary lint off of her collar. Like she didn’t just scream her head off.

You exchange a quick look with Jackie before striking, your fist reaching the reporter's face just moments after Jackie's jacket lands over the lens of the camera. Stormy all but collapses back into the van, her hand flying up to her bruised cheek just in time for the cameraman to toss Jackie's jacket to the ground. 

She looks more pissed at the cameraman for failing to catch it than she does at you for punching her in the first place. You would respect her dedication to her job if it didn't just involve harassing your girlfriend. Anything that involved one of your girlfriends and other people rarely went well. Sometimes you wish you could just lock them in the dorm room forever, but you think that might be Shauna's influence talking through you. 

It would've been quite a shot to get you swinging at her, given your former status as a suspect in the original murders. Especially with how many snotty campus rumors you've heard regarding how the copycat was probably one of the original survivors. 

Not that that theory meant much, given how your whole fucking high school soccer team seems to go here. Didn't narrow the suspect list much, did it? You were secretly quite pleased at how many people seemed to suspect Misty of being the new Ghostface. 

It was a little too obvious for your taste, but there would be something quite satisfying about being able to get rid of her without risking casting suspicion on yourself. That was the biggest problem with this whole thing: the blame it cast back toward you. 

Any other serial killer on this campus, and the three of you would've had a blast reveling in that terror again. Maybe you could've even committed a few murders yourselves and passed the blame on to the other guy. Would've been an easy way to take out Misty. Everyone could've been happy. 

At the very least Shauna would've had a blast, and if Shauna was happy, you and Jackie usually followed. The reverse was even more true. 

Jackie grabs you by the hand and pulls you back from the reporter just as easily as she had just pulled Shauna away, tapping into that superhuman strength she possessed only long enough to boss you around. 

“Who died?” You ask, waiting until you got far enough from the crowd to not be overheard.

There’s a contemplative yet grim determination on Jackie’s face as she answers, “My TA.”

Another person Jackie knows. You don’t like the way that makes you feel.

…

“Hey, so,” Melissa says suddenly, her smile faltering at the way you flinch at the interruption.

She doesn't seem to be put off at all by the strained smile you give back as you tear your eyes away from her mess of an essay. You're not sure that she could have written a worse paper had she actually sat down and done it on purpose. They really just pass everyone these days, huh? 

“I saw your interview,” she continues, undaunted. That confidence of hers can really come out of nowhere sometimes. She could go from chicken shit to in your face at the drop of a hat. Quite literally, sometimes. “Maybe interview isn't the right word. Uh… I saw you on TV. That was, like, so lame of her.”

“Yeah, Melissa,” you say, sitting back in your uncomfortable chair in the corner of the library near the information desk. It was the only table open when you came in a few hours ago, but now you were left awkwardly secluded sitting across from Melissa while everyone else had the sense to claim a table by the windows where the lights from the street made everything look a little less creepy murder house.

“Stormy is so stupid.” Melissa leans forward, a hand cupping the side of her mouth like it was top secret. “I heard she tried to dial 911 on a calculator.”

You laugh at the snide comment, mostly just because it reminds you a little of Shauna. If she was just a little nicer. A lot nicer. It immediately becomes apparent that it was a moment of weakness that Melissa was keen to jump on as she leans even closer with a dumb little smile on her face. You lean back.

“I just wanted to say that I believe you. I know you wouldn't kill those people.”

“…Thank you?” you offer, flipping back to the paper you were working on and circling a run-on sentence. Some half-baked argument that completely missed the point of the entire assignment. The kind of thing that tries to be profound but mostly just screams I watched the movie instead.

Maybe if you just start looking at your work again, she’ll give up. It’s not that you don’t like Melissa. It’s just that you were wasting precious girlfriend time to be here to help her with the paper that she keeps dragging out.

“Or those other people,” she rushes to add after barely a breath. 

Her confidence in you was endless. Maybe she wasn’t that good of a judge of character.

“Thanks, Melissa,” you say again. More pointedly this time. 

If she was going to say something else, you’ll never know, as the relative silence of the room was broken up by a sudden ringing of a telephone. It doesn’t take long to find the source: a phone at the front desk ringing off the hook. An exaggeration, maybe, but compared to the rest of the library, it sounds deafening. There’s a choir of complaints throughout the room, but no one seems to want to get up and actually do anything about it.

You’re willing to just ignore it when it rings the first time. After all, it’s not like it’s your job to answer the phones. Someone was getting paid for that, even if they seemed to be off hiding in the stacks somewhere doing who knows what. Either way, the call went straight to the machine. You shake your head as you flip to the next page.

You’re willing to ignore it when it rings the second time, even as it brings an even louder round of complaints. It goes to the machine again, and you hope they’ll just eat it this time. Something tells you that you won’t be that lucky.

You’re not willing to ignore it when it rings the third time

You eye Melissa curiously, who just shrugs, tapping her pencil against the desk as she turns her attention back to her textbook. The one time that girl was committed to learning. Utterly useless. You huff, taking in deep breaths as you remind yourself that Melissa wasn't what was making you mad. 

Another shrill ring from the unanswered phone is enough to have you shooting up out of your seat with enough force to send it careening back and to the ground, the wooden back slamming against the floor loud enough to draw a few eyes. Now they wanted to pay attention. It was even enough to draw Melissa back from her textbook, her eyes flicking from the upturned chair back to the annoyed look on your face in rapid succession before she suddenly found her textbook even more interesting than before. 

Your footsteps almost echo in the nearly silent library as you walk over to the front desk, picking the phone off the receiver. Didn't students get paid to man this desk? 

“Hello?” You ask irritably. 

“Hello.” 

Your whole body tenses at the familiar voice, your blood running ice cold. You knew that stupid fucking voice modulator better than almost anyone else. That's why it was so terrifying to hear it now. The voice had never made the papers. Why would it? The three of you were the only ones to ever hear that voice and live. 

So how did… 

“Who is this?” You ask stupidly. You wince as the words leave your mouth, feeling like one of those stupid girls in horror movies that exist only to die and make Shauna laugh. 

A laugh on the other end of the line, sickeningly cold in the tone of that voice. You don't think it's ever struck fear in you like this before. How could it, knowing that it usually belonged to one of your girls? 

“What's your—” 

You slam the phone back down on the receiver, clutching onto the desk with all your strength just to hear the way the cheap wood protests beneath your touch. The sound of footsteps approaching has you whirling around, hardly believing someone could be bold enough to attack you in the middle of a crowded library. They had guts, whoever they were. 

It wasn't until a quiet moan escapes your assailant as you slam them back against the opposite wall that you realize who it is. Jackie watches you with wide eyes, surprise evident on her face even as blown pupils stared back at you. She licks her lips absently, pushing against the forearm pressed to her throat with reluctance as she looks around at all the attention you've garnered from the other patrons. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, patting Jackie awkwardly on the shoulder in lieu of what you really wanted to do. First, check her for injuries from your unintended rough handling, and then maybe dig your fingers in to make them last longer. 

When you pull yourself together enough to look around, the first person you see is Melissa staring back at you with a faint flush on her cheeks before clearing her throat and packing up her things. Another look at Jackie has you pulling her by the hand back to your table to do the same. 

Jackie's uncharacteristically silent as she watches you shove your things back in your bag, not even sparing a departing Melissa a glance as she waves goodbye to the two of you and awkwardly retreats. 

“Spooked?” Jackie asks quietly, squeezing your hand gently as she leads you out.

“Something like that,” you confirm, not wanting to say anything more due to your awareness of lingering eyes. 

“Me too. I wanted to convince you to come back, but it didn't seem to take much.” Jackie huffs. “I even wore that low cut shirt you like…”

You've noticed. Especially when you'd had her pressed up against the wall, ready to knock some sense into your perceived caller. 

“Shauna not enough for you tonight? Had to come get me from the library?” You joke, trying for some semblance of normality after that weird fucking phone call in the library. How could they even have known to do that, and to you of all people? The whole thing was more threatening to your continued anonymity than you thought it would be.

Shauna was going to go postal. You can’t wait for it. Watching her lose her cool might distract you from how badly your hands were shaking when you hung up that phone. No one could afford for you to start freaking out right now, especially not Jackie. If you start freaking out, Jackie’s going to start freaking out twice as hard.

“Well, you know…” Jackie trails off playfully as she traces your hand with her thumb before turning serious. “I don’t think it’s safe for us to be apart right now. I know it’s dumb, but I just want us all to be home. Three of us are better than one, right?”

She leaves a moment for you to laugh and seems surprised when you don’t. Her brow twitches. Before her lips can curve into something a little more manipulative, you say, “I got a call at the library.”

Her eyes narrow. Uh oh. “Since when do you have a cell phone?”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, trying not to crack up out of stress. Of course that’s where her mind would go. “I don’t, Jackie. Seriously?”

She just shrugs like she still hasn’t ruled you out as a suspect.

“It was for me. Like the ones you used to make.”

“How?” Jackie asks. slow and careful. “Wait, with the voice?”

“The voice,” you confirm.

“I don’t understand.” Her voice gets higher as she continues, “How would they even know to call you?”

“That interview, maybe?”

Jackie makes a face like she just ate something unpleasant.

“Stormy Winds,” she mutters under her breath. “Still. Have fun telling Shauna.”

You should have known she was going to leave that up to you. Maybe Jackie wore her out enough that she would be asleep by the time you got back to the dorms, but you’re never that lucky.

[shaunamilfman]

milfman strikes again with those masc r HC’s, as a masc myself I’m so grateful for the representation you have no clue fr😭 also I have some additional thoughts about Jackie w/ masc r that I wanted to share!!!

yes Jackie is secretly super hyped at the idea of people thinking you’re her boyfriend especially when they begin complimenting you two, essentially confirming her theory… except you feel worried about losing Jackie as a friend bc of it, so you politely start correcting people.

the first time you correct someone it’s at the mall; Jackie catches this older woman’s attention bc she’s holding up these shirts against your chest trying to decide what you look hotter in what suits you best, the older woman smiles at the sight and tells her “aren’t you two adorable? my husband doesn’t know how to dress himself either” to which Jackie laughs out “our way or the highway, right?”

when Jackie promptly disappears from your side to grab something else for you she’s already daydreaming about what being married to you would look like, in a friendly sense of course. bc what if neither of you ever find the right person? you look the part, so surely it could pass off as a lavender marriage of sorts even though you’re both girls. Jackie doesn’t want to get married to a man, have his kids and be stuck with him as his housewife for the rest of her life, sounds like her personal hell. but if she replaces the ‘him’ with you? well all of sudden it’s heaven bearable.

Jackie’s in the midst of rationalizing her thoughts as platonic all the while you’re correcting this woman from afar. it’s not until she comes back and you let her know that the woman knows the truth that these thoughts crumble into a sad unknown feeling.

Jackie disguises her frown by focusing on fixing the collar of your shirt, clearly that’s why she’s so bothered she thinks as she tells you it’s alright. I can totally see you taking that interaction with Jackie the wrong way though bc it’s also the first time either of you have acknowledged people confusing you for a couple, god why haven’t you corrected people sooner? you can clearly tell how Jackie’s feeling even if she tries to hide it, fuck she must hate being near you whenever that happens if her reaction is anything to go by.

Jackie immediately noticing that you’re preemptively correcting people now, as soon as the words “you both look lovely-” starts to leave someone’s mouth you’re casually cutting in to toss in stuff like “-the loveliest of friends, I think so too” right after. Jackie is heartbroken offended that you don’t like others assuming you’re a couple even if she never says it aloud, as if any other girl in the world could love you look better beside you the way Jackie does…

the only way Jackie is forced to confront her feelings about you is after another girl ‘inexplicably’ loses interest in you not long after meeting you.

you go out of your way to tell people the truth bc you’re afraid of losing Jackie…

then there’s Jackie who may or may not be doing the exact opposite with these girls in particular bc she’s afraid of losing you, as a friend of course. if you start dating other girls then they’ll monopolize your time and Jackie will never get to see you anymore. this mf is waiting until you fall asleep to steal your phone, send them a “lose her number” text with a pic of you spooning her; deletes all the evidence after and blocks their number. you should be thanking her really, Jackie appreciates your friendship so much she’s saving it from these potentially harmful home wreckers strangers.

that’s why Jackie doesn’t see it coming when you ask her if there’s something wrong with you and if you should change the way you look again. you tell Jackie that these girls keep ghosting you and quite honestly you don’t think your personality is the problem here… maybe they don’t really wanna be with someone who looks so masculine?

Jackie has unintentionally been making you feel insecure about the way you present yourself and she hates herself for it.

no anon i sooooo get you. so much femme reader which obvi is the author's right but i'm always scouring for content on here. always glad to get hc's that i don't have to write myself lmaoo

love love love the jackie not seeing it through the lens that someone who knows they're queer would. like of course r would worry about being that gay friend yknow while jackie sees nothing wrong with everyone thinking they're together.

jackie engaging in that older women socializing about how useless their husbands are is so her lmaooo. just know that she spent so much time growing up getting dragged to rich people functions with her parents and can charm older women soooo well. she would always be a mom's favorite friend frfr.

the thought of marriage is something jackie's always dreaded until she sees r in a really nice button-up shirt she forced into your hands and starts hearing wedding bells. thinking about how maybe she's just attracted to men who look like you do (because obviously she's straight and likes men) but why should she waste time doing that when you're in such a vulnerable position right now???

in your head you're like: of course you know that jackie's trying but she has to be uncomfortable with everyone thinking you're together. it's why she hasn't corrected them that you aren't her boyfriend, obviously. people would ask questions, right?

meanwhile, in jackie's head whenever that happens: 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

GOD GOD GOD. the lose her number bit. she so would. what a woman she's so hot. jealous femme for the win frfr. obviously she's just protecting her friendship which is why she also makes the photo the background of her phone.

you ask jackie if you should change the way you look and she gets all defensive at the thought of it. it's like when men get a decent haircut and then shave it all off. she's been there with jeff, damn it.

i just know she has the worst excuses for why those women wont talk to you anymore. talking about how they don't deserve you and you're too good for them to the point it sounds ridiculous. oh no, she'll just have to comfort you some more. maybe hold you in her arms or something. a shame.

buys you something extra masculine the next day in reassurance but also guilt.

[shaunamilfman]

hiii i love ur jackieshauna x reader fics <3 thoughts on toxic jackieshauna playing sexual mind games w u and manipulating u into thinking theyre both cheating on each other? kinda like illicit affairs but theyre intentionally fucking w u? if u feel comfortable w that - 🥸

Jackieshauna Fake Cheating HC's

note: love this ask anon. referencing this fic btw. illicit affairs lowkey still one of my fav fics that i've ever written.

The thought of reader being used so that Jackieshauna can role-play an affair is so good. All the benefits of cheating without them having to, y'know, cheat. 

I know they were arguing for days about which of them should approach you first about it, only for it to turn into rock, paper, scissors. Shauna cheats and wins. (Jackie always giggles before choosing scissors).

Thinking about Shauna staging a big fight with Jackie at a party. It's a real grievance of hers, but Jackie just doesn't know it. She's taking every chance she can get to “win” an argument. Storms off and just happens to be brooding near you at the party.

The first time it happens, Shauna lies that they broke up in order to get you to come back with her. She can't quite manage Jackie's gentle manipulations, so she works with what she knows: lies. 

Shauna calls out Jackie's name on purpose and pretends to be just the right amount of embarrassed after. There's just something about how you squirm with guilt after. 

The next time you see them, they're smiling and holding hands like usual. You're almost sick. Shauna keeps sneaking looks at you over Jackie's shoulder. 

She keeps pulling you into bathrooms and closets whenever she has the chance. She manages to convince you to stay the night at her place a few times, but it only makes you feel worse. 

Shauna gets such a kick out of when you stay the night. When you roll over and face the other way, pillow hugged against your chest as you try not to think about Jackie. Jackie, who's always been so kind to you. Jackie, who loves her girlfriend more than anything. 

Jackie coming to you as a teammate (“We're sort of friends, right? I don't have that many real friends…). She's so upset about Shauna, talking about how she's been pulling away from her lately. You're almost sick with guilt about the whole thing when she leans in and kisses you.

Thinking about Jackie manipulating you, but she's so gentle about it. Her hands pushing stray strands of hair out of the way, holding your chin, and rubbing her thumb against your jaw. Quietly shushing your protests about Shauna, pushing you back on her bed, and leading your hands wherever she wants them while she keeps telling you it's okay. It's not like you're protesting for anything more than the sake of it. Shauna's worn you down on morals already. 

Jackie's so clingy that the lie barely works. She wants to hold your hand and drag you around the mall so bad, but the cheating ploy is so hot she can't help it. 

You’re at Jackie’s one night fooling around in her room, and Shauna comes over. Jackie panics and pushes you into the closet, leaving the door just barely peeked open. All like, “Just wait, I’ll get her out,” but before you know it, Shuana’s pushing her back on the bed you just occupied, and clothing starts flying. Shauna asks Jackie what’s gotten her so worked up, and Jackie is like, “Oh, just thinking of you” when Shauna asks about it. You’re slightly terrified the whole time because she keeps looking in your direction. (You almost swore Shauna did a few times too.)

Whenever you get a little hesitant about the whole thing, Shauna starts nodding along like she's listening, but by the time you look up, half of her flannel is unbuttoned. 

Shauna keeps blowing up your phone whenever she knows you’re out with Jackie and asking you to come over. Sending increasingly more explicit photos your way because she knows you can’t come over at the moment. Leaving Jackie’s place only to go straight over to Shauna’s afterward, who’s bitching about how long it took you and asking if you were out with your little girlfriend.

Jackie getting a little jealous of the idea of you and Shauna having a relationship without her, despite it being partly her idea. She keeps asking you if she's the best you've ever had. Gets real insistent about it. You don't know it, but Shauna's getting a sudden influx of the same demands. 

Shauna confronting you and having this giant fight because there’s a hickey on your neck that she didn’t leave (it was Jackie, and they planned it out). She’s pinning you up against the nearest surface as she inspects it from every angle. Shauna’s so mean about it that night. So rough, she leaves an even bigger hickey on top of the one Jackie left you with. She makes sure to cuddle with you extra close because of how bad it makes you feel.

Jackie confronting you back about who left a hickey on her hickey. Accuses you of sleeping with Tai or Van since you clearly don’t have a problem helping her cheat on Shauna.

Consider Jackie waiting until you wear a flannel that has a pattern similar to one that Shauna wears and then accusing you of stealing it off her desk chair like a freak when you come over one night. “What, do you have a little crush on my girlfriend or something? What’s wrong with you?” She pretends she doesn’t believe you no matter how much you explain it until you just give up and hand it over. The next time you see her with Shauna, she’s wearing it.

One thing has lead to another, and now you're fucking both of them. The guilt doesn't go away with that knowledge. In fact, it only seems to get worse. At the same time, you really can't stop yourself from doing it again and again. 

The more they keep hooking up with you, the less you seem to care about the whole thing, which slowly starts to ruin the fun of fucking with you like that. Not that they would ever stay away from you now. No, you're theirs now. 

They'll have to let you in on the whole thing now that they've decided to tell you that you've been their girlfriend the entire time (you don't get a say). Probably right after they finish yelling at you for thinking they were cheating on each other and letting it happen. 

When everything finally comes out, it involves them hanging out with you at the same time and pretending to find something that helps them put the pieces together just to watch you panic and die a little inside. You’re terrified Shauna’s going to beat your ass, but somehow the night ends in a very confusing threesome.

[shaunamilfman]

wicked and weary [1]

pairing: Jackie Taylor x Shauna Shipman x f!reader Summary: You and your girlfriends were survivors. At least, that's how the story goes. You weren't eager to correct them. Two years after the murders in Wiskayok, the three of you have built a life together at college, free from all the horrors of the past. At least, you thought you were. Note: minors dni. warning for graphic descriptions of violence and probably smut in the series in general. sequel to the ghost you dressed up as. literally unreadable without them lmaoo. Masterlist

Jackie groans as your alarm goes off, slapping wildly in its general direction but only managing to catch you on the side of the head. It somehow never fails to wake Jackie up when it wasn’t set for her classes. Otherwise, she could sleep through the apocalypse. She was always such a morning person in high school, but that hadn’t lasted long after graduation. It was true what they said: college 8 AM was not high school 8 AM. Jackie had learned that lesson the hard way her freshman year. You can’t say she doesn’t learn now that she avoids them like the plague. You weren’t so lucky.

You hiss in pain, though it honestly didn’t hurt that much, as you reach over Shauna to turn it off yourself. Your motivation for crying out anyway is entirely selfish, even in your half-asleep state. Jackie gasps the moment she connects the dots—your head, her hand, your cry of pain—rolling over in your arms in a mess of blanket as she presses her palm apologetically against the side of your forehead.

While you appreciate the effort, it mostly just serves to put pressure on your sore skin. You keep that to yourself, happy to accept Jackie scooting close to press a kiss against your forehead. She hooks one bare leg loosely over yours to draw herself closer, careful not to nudge Shauna too hard as she does. She couldn’t go around hitting both of her girlfriends on the same day, after all. There are limits, even if Jackie pretends she can’t see them.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Jackie murmurs as she peppers kisses across your forehead, still so affectionate even barely conscious. 

Shauna was warm against your back, her limp arm resting heavily over your side. She always slept like that when you had to get up before her so that you couldn’t avoid waking her up on your way out. You always have to peel her off of you before you can take a shower, a necessary evil with how hot she made you at night. You wake up sweaty more often than not.

It was devious of her, truly, but you had to let her get that in when she could. It’s not like she has many options to express that anymore these days.

You try to seem unaffected by it if only to draw more kisses, but you can’t keep the dopey grin from your face for long. Jackie has that effect on everyone; even you can only resist it for so long. There has to be some kind of built-up immunity. Shauna’s at least partially an example of that, but it hasn’t seemed to become any less effective over the years as far as you were concerned.

“Baby is right,” Shauna murmurs against the back of your neck, her voice low and teasing and thick with sleep. The sound of it makes you shiver, especially with her being close enough that you can feel her breath brushing against her skin as she speaks. Jackie gives you a commiserating look. “Milking it, much?”

You snort, caught between laughter and embarrassment at being caught so easily. Maybe it wasn’t your most thought-out plan, but a girl could only think so much before 9 AM. You were working with what you had, and it was going perfectly fine before she stepped in.

Jackie presses twin kisses against your flushed cheeks as she murmurs in your ear, “Jealous.”

“Damn, Shauna,” you say, shifting to face her. Jackie grumbles as you do so, reluctantly cuddling up against your back as she props herself up on her arm to watch the two of you better. “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed already?”

You can see Shauna’s exhaustion on her face as she blinks those brown eyes sleepily, that hazy, half-awake glow that makes you want to grab her cheeks and squeeze them together. She would definitely bite you for it, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Not when it comes to her, at least. It would make quite the interesting wake-up call if you weren’t already on the verge of running late to start getting ready.

The sleep lines across her face certainly don’t help with the urge. She’s so cute. A terrifying murderer capable of extreme violence, but so cute. Shauna might don the mask again if she heard you say that, though.

Shauna scoffs quietly, pinching at the skin of your hip lazily as she presses her face more firmly into your shoulder. “Just for that, I’m not letting you go to class.”

Jackie hums in agreement, reaching over your shoulder to pat Shauna on the arm. “She always has the best ideas.”

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with who’s in my class.”

Their ensuing silence speaks volumes. No jokes, no teasing words, nothing. It was like you just shouted in a quiet room.

You sigh. “You promised you wouldn’t be weird—”

“We’re not weird,” Shauna cuts in, immediately over-defensive.

At the same time, Jackie asks with feigned nonchalance, “Who’s being weird?”

“Melissa, again?” You ask, rolling your eyes. If they weren’t pressed up so firmly against you on either side, you would’ve gotten up and left just to avoid the same damn conversation for the third time this week. “You can’t just hate her because she has a, and I quote, punchable face.”

“That’s a little much,” Jackie admits with a nod. Shauna huffs irritably as she holds tighter to your hip.

“Though,” she continues thoughtfully, “That hat of hers is a little much. It’s offensive. A crime to the eyes.”

“You two are so normal.”

“She picked your notebook up when you dropped it,” Shauna accuses.

“She laughed at your joke. It wasn’t even funny. That’s my job,” Jackie adds darkly before adding, “Our job. Sorry, Shauna.”

“Too bad. The two of you made friends, so now I get one too. You only have yourselves to blame.”

“Jackie made a friend first. With Lottie of all people,” Shauna grumbles.

“Lottie’s nice,” Jackie defends, though her heart isn’t all the way in it. 

You think she might give her up in a heartbeat if you agree to never talk to anyone else ever again—you can’t say you aren’t tempted—but that was just how she was. Your first few years of high school, you didn’t think anyone existed in Jackie Taylor’s world but Shauna Shipman. That was still mostly true, but you somehow found yourself as another exception. Even now you aren’t entirely sure what it was about you that drew them to you in the first place, but you aren’t one to question a good thing.

Maybe a few of your friends got murdered in the process, but you weren’t really all that fond of them in the long run. Most friendships end after high school anyway, right? Still, you might go ahead and skip the reunion. Not that you’ve really been planning on attending anyway. Half the school suspecting you of murdering your fellow classmates for a good part of your senior year can make those “remember when” moments a touch awkward.

Even after Travis and Jeff were all but found guilty on account of both of them being dead—a murder-suicide that only the three of you knew wasn’t quite what happened—there was still the occasional conspiracy theorist who thought you had something to do with it. Crazy, right?

You couldn’t blame them.

“As long as she’s nice,” you say teasingly, shrugging Jackie’s arm off your shoulder as you start to wiggle your way out of their grasps.

“She never thought you killed people,” Jackie points out, taking a chance to cop a feel before she lets you go.

“She did kill those people,” Shauna says wryly.

You squirm away from her hand with a quiet laugh, nearly climbing over Shauna as you stumble out of your bed. It wasn’t quite your bed—in the sense that it wasn’t the one assigned to you. That was shoved off in the corner above your desk. Jackie had a brainstorm, her words, your first day in the dorm and pushed her and Shauna’s twin beds together. It practically doubled the amount of space you used to share on Shauna’s twin bed at home. You can’t deny that you enjoy not having to worry about waking up on the floor in the morning.

Jackie always made you move them back apart whenever it was time for the dorm to be inspected, insisting that she didn’t want to give anyone any ideas about what was happening in here. Pointing out that she didn’t seem to mind giving anyone any ideas when Lottie had playfully flirted with you two semesters before hadn’t done you any favors. In fact, it had just led to you lugging the twin across the room by yourself while she sat on her bed and crossed her arms until you were done. 

Truthfully, you didn’t much see the point of the whole thing. The fact that your lofted bed over your desk was covered in boxes—a mix of Jackie’s many winter clothes, books Shauna insisted she needed, and the collection of things you couldn’t find a place for—didn’t seem to support that heterosexual lifestyle she was trying to portray to the RA anyway. 

You’ve learned to pick your battles over the years.

Just like how, when you hear the two of them bickering on the bed behind you, you mind your business as you quietly creep out of the room to go take a shower before class. You wouldn’t have it any other way, really.

…

“God,” Melissa says, walking half a step too fast to keep up with you. She was far too chipper for someone who just walked out of a double-block lecture, but that was Melissa for you. She’s the only person you’ve ever met who could stand to rival Jackie in that regard.

It’s just enough to be noticeable, but not enough for you to think much of it. You would slow down enough for her to keep step with you easier, but not today. Not when the promise of being sandwiched between your girlfriends at your usual lunch table eating fries stolen off of Shauna’s plate is so close at hand.

“She’s such a hardass,” Melissa continues, glancing over at you when you don’t immediately respond.

You hum distractedly, looking around to see if either of them has decided to meet you outside of class. It’s only when you’re sure they’re just going to meet you there that you finally give Melissa your full attention.

“Did she knock you off a bunch of points for your essay again?” You ask. The thought was a little irritating, considering you took time out of your busy schedule—your usual making out with Jackie before she had to leave for class time—to help her look over what the professor had marked her off for last time. It was a fairly easy elective, one that you added just to save time to study for your harder classes, but Melissa was really seeming to struggle with it. She certainly needed your help with enough stuff, at least.

“Yes!” Melissa says, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she walks. She pauses to adjust her hat as a gust of wind catches the brim of it and nearly knocks it off her head before jogging to catch up with you again. “Something about the structure or something. I don’t know. Will you go over it later with me?”

“It’s an easy enough class,” you say more to yourself than anyone else, wincing as the words actually come out of your mouth. That sounded a little too much like Shauna for your taste.

“Easy for you,” Melissa says. It would be easy enough for the words to come out bitterly, as deserved as it would be, but they were anything but. The words were light, almost admiring. It was entirely too sweet, like a compliment you didn’t ask for. You aren’t sure you’re entirely comfortable with it.

“But will you?”

“Melissa,” you sigh, giving up as she pouts over at you. God knows you fell victim to that enough. “Yeah, sure. But you’re buying me lunch.”

Melissa cheers, bumping your shoulder with hers like you just agreed to go to prom with her. She doesn’t seem to notice the step you take in the other direction as you put a little more space between the two of you. That, or she just doesn’t comment on it. Sometimes you think she sees more than you give her credit for, then you watch her gasp in awe as someone walks a golden retriever across the street, and the thought dies before it can be fully formed.

She talks a lot more than she should, happy to fill up the silence on your end as you make the long walk to lunch. It was nice enough, and you didn’t entirely mind listening to her talk about her issues with Gen. If there’s one thing you’ve noticed about Melissa, it’s that she really talks with her hands. It draws a lot of attention from passersby, but no amount of dirty looks seems to get to her at all. Her best friend was the obvious choice for a roommate, but sometimes living together was an entirely different thing. It certainly was for them, at least. 

You and your girlfriends had fallen into step without much issue before you’d even begun to unpack, but you’d practically lived together as much as your parents had allowed in high school anyway.

Melissa reminds you a bit of Jackie in a weird way. Jackie was all sharp edges and cherry lip gloss, her prettiest dress on with a knife held just behind her back. Melissa’s… nice. She’s soft where Jackie is steel. Chatty, but not in that effortlessly charming way that Jackie was. Chatty in a way that could get annoying. Every now and then you’ll catch a familiar glimpse of your girlfriend in the purse of Melissa’s lips or the way she tilts her head. It wasn’t a direct comparison; no one could compare to Jackie in any way that matters.

But it was still a thought in the back of your mind sometimes. You know that if you ever voiced it aloud, it would end with Melissa’s head being separated from her body, but you can’t help the thought.

It was probably why you started hanging out with her in the first place. That, and refusing not to have a friend of your own when your girlfriends’ both did. It was Jackie’s fault, really, because Shauna only befriended Tai because she refuses to let Jackie have anything she doesn’t. Petty antics dressed as fair play. Maybe you could’ve ended the cycle, but you don’t date the two of them without matching their crazy at least a little bit. 

Hell, you once murdered Jackie’s boyfriend. You justified it with him knowing too much, but you mostly just wanted to kill him for the sake of it.

Still, thinking of the two of them in the same sentence was not a good idea. Jackie doesn’t share well, and Shauna doesn’t share at all. You like the way they get so riled up by the mere mention of her name. It reminds you pleasantly of that girl you went out with in high school, the one who had made everything finally fall into place for the three of you.

By the time you head to your usual booth toward the back, free food in hand courtesy of Melissa, everyone else has already shown up. You slide into the obvious seat left for you, on the end next to Jackie, who always loved to sit in the middle. Melissa hesitates as she catches sight of your invited guest in her seat, who steadfastly pretends not to see Melissa staring at her as she twirls her finger around in her water cup.

Not to be run off by the likes of Misty Quigley, Melissa sits her food down on the table and walks off to drag a chair over with an obnoxiously loud screech as she sits down. The look she gives Misty is nasty enough that you raise an eyebrow in shock, unaware she was capable of such a thing. The look of sudden intrigue on Shauna’s face as she looks over tells you that she wasn’t aware of it either. Shauna’s eyes glance up and down Melissa’s body, suddenly reassessing her.

Misty doesn’t flinch at the look Melissa gives her. She barely even acknowledges it. 

You don’t give it much thought as Jackie rests her head against your arm, looking up at you with an amused look as she subtly glances at Misty and then back again. It’s not that Jackie entirely minds her presence, but the girl has been all but stalking her around campus since they worked together on a group project last semester.

Shauna was almost hysterical over the whole thing, and you’ve had to calm her down from storming over to Misty’s dorm and slitting her throat more than once. You aren’t entirely sure that you’ll be up for stopping her the next time it happens. No one could stalk your girlfriends but you, after all.

You wrap your arm around Jackie’s waist without much thought, fingers curling beneath her shirt and squeezing her hip affectionately before you draw your hand back. Her breath hitches almost imperceptibly, a tiny sigh that barely manages to leave her lips for all that you can hear it. Jackie’s face is flushed as you pull back, which momentarily leaves you confused until you remember exactly which hip you grabbed: the one that bears the scars of your initials. It hadn’t been purposeful, but you’re sure some deep part of you reached for it instinctively. Casual. Territorial.

Jackie likes when you're possessive.

“In public?” Jackie murmurs beneath her breath.

Without missing a beat, you glance in Misty’s direction. She’s sitting too close and seems entirely too interested in what you’re whispering about. Then you look back to find Jackie smirking, an invitation even as she eyes you in clear warning.

The small smile Shauna’s been giving you since you sat down turns into an eye roll as you reach over to snag one of her fries. There were already quite a few missing, and you have a sneaking suspicion that it has more to do with Jackie than it does with Shauna. The smug grin on Jackie’s face as she watches you eat it all but confirms it.

“Buy your own fries,” Shauna says, holding her arm out to block her tray.

“Maybe I should wear my own clothes too,” you quip, tugging at the collar of Shauna’s oversized flannel draped over your shoulders.

Her eyes narrow warningly before she draws her hand back with a sigh, turning her ire on Tai as she snickers from the other side of the table. “What are you looking at?” Shauna snaps, which doesn’t stop the smug grin from growing larger on Tai’s face as she just shrugs her shoulders.

“Nothing,” Tai says, utterly unbothered by Shauna’s glare. You’re actually impressed by the whole thing. “You’ve just gotten so domestic.”

After the way you’ve seen her act with Van, you don’t think she has much room to talk, and her sudden and intense interest in her drink seems to indicate she thinks the same.

Then, Misty jumps in. Uninvited and just a beat too late.

“Did you get dressed in the dark?” Misty asks with a forced laugh. It’s jagged around the edges, like she’s been practicing it in the mirror and it doesn’t come out the way she’s rehearsed it. She fiddles with the arm of her glasses as the whole table turns to look over at her. “Y’know, just sometimes I put on clothes I didn’t mean to either…”

Jackie blinks in surprise, a look bordering on disbelief on her face until it smooths into something carefully neutral. Her lips twitch reflexively before stilling. Whether it was into a smile or a grimace, you can’t tell. Lottie takes a loud sip from her nearly empty drink, slowly rolling the glass and frowning at the jingling ice. The clink of it is too deliberate to be anything but a performance. Melissa just straight out snickers, pressing her hand up to her mouth in a delayed effort to hide it. There’s too much obvious glee in her eyes for it to be anything but.

Tai emits a short, dry, “Huh.” Somehow devoid of judgment and so full of it at the same time.

You feel Jackie’s hand suddenly grip your thigh, her thumb digging in hard enough your whole body freezes in place. It has the intended effect—a warning—while also serving to bring your attention entirely away from Misty to focus on not crying out in pain. That was a Shauna trick right there. Your girlfriends were teaming up against you.

In an added Jackie touch, she strokes her thumb apologetically over what you’re sure is a blooming bruise. It would be soft and loving if she wasn’t the one who put it there. Despite her being the guilty party, you still think it's soft and loving. They’ve broken you.

“Did you think that’s the same thing?” Shauna asks, unimpressed. She’s not one to be outdone. Jackie picked the wrong girlfriend to worry about in all the chaos. Shauna leans back in her seat, watching Misty with the same detached curiosity she gave your victims.

Misty’s smile falters as she glances around at the other girls, who all seem to be busy. Except for Lottie, who shrugs, and Jackie, who smiles at her encouragingly.

“Uh, yeah, Misty,” you agree, turning your attention down to your lunch. “Totally.”

It takes a concentrated effort on your part not to choke on a mouthful of your lunch as Jackie squeezes your thigh appreciatively. Now that you’re thinking about it, you could actually be nicer to Misty. There’s no sudden motivation for that, of course. 

Misty opens her mouth again, presumably to dig the hole deeper, but Jackie beats her to it.

“God, I’ve got the worst test on Friday.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Lottie interjects. It’s one of the first things she’s said the whole time you’ve been sitting here, and it’s terribly ominous. Not the words themselves—they were fairly normal—but there was something about the way that she said them. The absolute certainty on her face as she looks up from the packets of sugar she was stacking on the table.

“Why did that sound like a threat?” Melissa whispers, visibly shuddering as she stares at Lottie from across the table. She coughs as you elbow her in the side.

“You never want to worry about anything,” Jackie says, equally dismissive and playful. 

Lottie just smiles across the table, watching you a moment too long before looking away again. No one seems to notice but you and Shauna, who sits up straighter in her seat.

The rest of lunch goes better than the start of it, which probably wasn’t that hard, all things considered. You like the group of girls you’ve acquired, but you think you would still rather it have just been the three of you. Jackie finally seems to take pity on you, mostly just Shauna and her tapping leg beneath the table, and announces that she needs to get to the library to study.

You slide out of the booth with nothing short of relief, Shauna stumbling after you like she hasn’t seen sunlight in days. Melissa starts to stand up to tell you goodbye, but a well-placed glare from Shauna has her slinking back into her seat. She doesn’t seem all that upset about the whole thing, at least.

“See you later…” Melissa says.

Jackie glances around, her eyebrows scrunching together as she scans the table. “Have you seen…”

Lottie holds up Jackie’s tote bag knowingly.

She grins, leaning down to give a still-seated Lottie a one-armed hug before she pulls it over her shoulder with a dramatic groan.

“Heavy?” Lottie asks, like she didn’t just hand it to Jackie effortlessly.

You share a glance with Shauna, who silently holds out one fist over her palm. Rock, paper, scissors. A silent countdown, paper to her scissors, before you pull away with a sigh. You never did seem to beat her. She cheats somehow—you just can’t prove it. Shauna was slippery like that.

“Need help, Jackie?”

Jackie shrugs it off her shoulder without a second thought as she holds it out in your direction. “Thanks, babe.” She nearly skips out of the room without bothering to look behind her as you follow behind.

…

“Baby!” Jackie shouts excitedly as she walks through the door, eyes widening when she catches sight of more of her girlfriends than she was expecting. 

Or, maybe, it was the sight of Shauna sitting pretty in your lap, eyes half-lidded and face flushed with arousal. Her lips are pink and swollen from the effort she’s been expending as she works a line of kisses across your skin. She pulls back reluctantly, almost looking annoyed at Jackie’s interruption until her face softens into something more welcoming as she glances back over her shoulder. Jackie’s footsteps falter, and her face twists into something between awe and a flicker of jealousy that she wasn’t already a part of it.

Your fingers are still loosely curled in Shauna’s hair as you look over her shoulder at Jackie, both of your breathing ragged as she leaves your skin marked and wet with her spit. Both of you were far too interested in one another to notice anyone else until Jackie came stumbling in. Shauna’s shirt is long gone, something that draws Jackie’s attention long enough that you have to gently remind her to close the door behind her. 

“Door, Jackie,” you prompt gently.

“Door, Jax,” Shauna repeats. Jackie didn’t seem to notice when you said it the first time. Now she nods slightly in understanding.

The two of you are still frozen with the odd feeling of being a teenager again. Like you got caught doing something that you shouldn’t have been doing. Shauna catches your eyes, shrugging slightly before leaning in to give you a parting kiss. It wasn’t nearly as chaste as that sort of thing should have been, but you were just as guilty of it as she was. You could never get enough of either of them.

Jackie steps in the room absently as she shuts the door, more out of a desire to do what you say than any real understanding of why she should. It takes her a moment, but she manages to shake herself out of it just in time to cross her arms over her chest.

“You started without me?” Jackie asks. She sounds heartbroken, but the both of you know that she’s mostly just playing. Mostly. If she had it her way, you wouldn’t even get a peck on the lips without her being able to see it.

“Just keeping the bed warm for you,” you tease, running your hand up the outside of Shauna’s thigh as you relax into the pillows. Shauna’s eyes fall down to watch as your thumb slowly presses against the place you know your initials lie, lovingly carved into her skin. She grabs at your shoulder pointedly, tracing her own. 

Jackie clears her throat exaggeratedly as she stops at the side of the bed.

Your hands settle on Shauna’s hips, fingers flexing to trace across bare skin above the waistband of her jeans. They did excellent things for her thighs, so you really can’t be blamed for getting distracted again. Neither can Shauna be blamed for rolling her hips down against your lap.

She never did anything wrong, of course.

“Should’ve just waited for me,” Jackie complains lightly, tipping Shauna’s head back to kiss her. Never truly upset—just enough to get her some attention for herself.

Shauna moves easily, grabbing at Jackie’s belt loops as she tugs her into bed. You can hear the mattresses protesting beneath Jackie’s knees, a squeaky noise you’ve more than gotten used to over the last two years. You barely acknowledge the sound anymore, especially when you’re far too content to watch the two of them kiss. With a front row seat to the action, you wouldn’t care if the ceiling caved in. A squeaky bed was barely enough to register in your mind

Jackie pulls away just long enough to kiss you too, a hello just as much as it was renewing her claim on you. You pull one hand away from Shauna’s hips to cut Jackie’s chin, an action that earns you a huffed complaint from her direction. She kisses you like she missed you, flattering even knowing she couldn’t have possibly had a chance to.

“Mmm, wait,” Jackie murmurs against your lips, pulling away even as you try to chase after her. She doesn’t want to, you can tell, but there’s something holding her back. You don’t like the thought of that at all, and it’s obvious Shauna doesn’t either.

“Waited long enough,” Shauna insists, shifting in your lap. It’s clear that she at least is planning on reclaiming your attention if Jackie doesn’t want it. You can always count on Shauna to be horny, at least.

Jackie grins, slowly shaking her head as her expression becomes more serious. “Look,” she says, holding a newspaper up. It’s the campus paper, that trashy newspaper that the three of you mock more often than not. More rumor mill than hard-hitting journalism, the kind of thing that Shauna has called an insult to the written word. 

There have been some really atrocious headlines in your time, but you can’t imagine what Jackie could deem funny enough to turn down a chance to get some. Even as you turn your head on the pillows to get a better look at it, you’re still half-expecting it to be some sex cult rumor involving the math department that you can laugh about while you work Jackie’s shirt up and over her shoulders.

Right there on the front page: a grainy photo of a blood-soaked shoe sticking out behind yellow tape. It takes you longer than it should to realize that the shoe is connected to an ankle, the body just out of view behind the corner of a building. It’s not a building you know well enough to recognize on sight, but you’re familiar enough with the architecture to realize that you must’ve passed it a few times on the way to one class or another.

Far more local than you’re comfortable with. You see why Jackie might be concerned with the whole thing, but why would she—

The mask.

The mask. The one that the three of you had once adorned. White. Long mouth frozen in a scream, one often mirrored by those whose last sight it made up. Black hood splayed out across the concrete. Those familiar, soulless holes staring out at you from the arches of the eyes. 

It can’t be the masks. That, at least, would be impossible. You had burned all of them in high school, but that didn’t stop them from still selling them. It was just a stupid costume shop mask, one of the cheapest that Shauna could find when she and Jackie had first started the whole thing.

Above it all, the bolded headline practically screams at you: “Ghostface returns?”

Shauna goes absolutely still in your lap as her eyes trace the letters in disbelief, the playful rocking of her hips halting in the face of her shock. Her lips are parted, silently mouthing the words as if that would make them untrue. She leans forward suddenly, snatching the paper from Jackie’s hands with a roughness you’ve almost grown unfamiliar with.

“Who is it?” You ask, not bothering to try to get the paper out of Shauna’s hands.

“Shut up,” Shauna says, squeezing your side with her knees. “I’m trying to read.”

“I just don’t get how—”

“What did I say?” Shauna asks irritably, shifting the newspaper to one hand as she looks down at you.

You grin up at her, unperturbed. It shouldn’t be funny—someone here is trying to become you—but Shauna’s familiar moodiness breaks through any tension you felt. You barely give her order more than a thought as you go to say something else, only to be interrupted as Shauna shoves a pillow over your face. There’s not enough pressure to actually do anything, but the meaning behind it is obvious enough.

Shauna unfolds the newspaper again, the sound of paper moving against one another loud enough to draw your attention even with your lack of sight. Jackie lifts up the corner of the pillow, squinting down at you as she holds one finger over her lips playfully. You roll your eyes.

“This is—” Shauna says suddenly.

“Uh huh,” Jackie confirms.

“Did you—”

“Nuh-uh.”

Shauna pulls the pillow off your face, leaving you blinking rapidly at the sudden light returning to your eyes. “Did you kill him?” Shauna asks. She doesn’t sound upset, exactly, but there’s a look of jealousy on her face that makes you wish you had done it. Her eyes flick back to the photo again, like she’s genuinely annoyed she hadn’t thought to kill them first.

“No, Shauna. You still haven’t told me who died,” you say.

“One of Jackie’s professors,” Shauna says absently, going back to scanning the paper.

You eye Jackie suspiciously.

“I did not!” Jackie insists, slapping your shoulder in reproach. 

She flops down on her back next to you, covering her face with her hands before peeking through her fingers. 

“I believe you,” you say solemnly. “You never would have killed him so sloppily.”

Jackie snorts, her cheeks flushing beneath her hands at the sound. “Amateur hour,” she agrees. “Definitely wasn’t one of us. Not close enough to my birthday for a present.”

You must have feigned an appropriate amount of contriteness. Jackie’s head rests suddenly on your shoulders as she shifts up onto her side and throws an arm around you.

“Do you think that I pass automatically if my professor gets murdered?” Jackie questions in a conspiratorial whisper.

“No, Jax. You still have to write your essay,” Shauna says flatly without even looking in your direction.

“The system is rigged,” Jackie complains.

You consider it for a while as Shauna reads and rereads the paper above you. “Probably not,” you murmur, mirroring Jackie’s pout as you turn your head toward her. 

Jackie leans forward to kiss your pout away. “Sucker,” she murmurs against your lips.

You should be more concerned about this, but you’re sure it’s probably just a one-off. Some college student on the verge of failing gets revenge on his professor, copying a series of fairly local murders. Open and shut case, really. You remember the kind of attention the murders got fairly well, considering. It seems simple enough that someone else had been a little too interested in the media coverage and decided to imitate it when they needed it.

“Maybe.”

“Definitely,” Shauna interjects, finally folding the newspaper up and tossing it in the vague direction of the floor.

Jackie, finally satisfied that the two of you aren’t overly concerned with the implications of the murder—or perhaps assuaged that you hadn’t gone out without her—gives Shauna an appreciative look as she relaxes next to you. She laces her fingers with yours as she leads your hand further up Shauna’s thigh.

Shauna’s breath hitches at the touch, tension seemingly forgotten as your fingers brush the seam of her jeans.

Right.

What murder?

[shaunamilfman]

you write toxic Shauna so well I love your work 🩷

thank you I tryyyyy. love toxic shauna what a woman

[shaunamilfman]

wicked and weary [Masterlist]

pairing: Jackie Taylor x f!reader x Shauna Shipman summary: You and your girlfriends were survivors. At least, that's how the story goes. You weren't eager to correct them. Two years after the murders in Wiskayok, the three of you have built a life together at college, free from all the horrors of the past. The masks are gone. Knives left behind. Now, they're saying he's back. Ghostface. But who's holding the knife? note: sequel series to the ghost you dressed up as. don't even try to attempt this without reading that lmaoo. warnings for graphic violence (obviously) and smut (who cheered?)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

[shaunamilfman]

Jackie being so possessive of Butch R when they’re stranded in the woods after the crash. Like yes, this is her big strong butch who can chop wood, build shelters, and find food for them; stay the fuck away. Jeff, who’s that? She could care less. They survived a plane crash, she doesn’t care what anyone else thinks now. She’s getting what’s hers. Her very own Butch that’s always been hers anyway, but now everyone will know.

not a full post anon but i have thoughtssss

the concept of jackie with butch R in the like lake scene at the beginning in episode like 2/3. they're all staring at travis and she's like "who?" because the sports bra is visible. she repeats, the sports bra is visible.

free reign to steal all your clothes. it's for warmth. yeah, she does know it's spring. spring in canada, okay? she needs the flannels.

jackie making you come with her down to the lake to get water and hold the heavy bucket and also suggests you should take your shirt off to cool down on the way back. but also hand her the bucket before you get in sight of the cabin because it was her chore, and she doesn't want to get any more grief about it.

just doing all of her chores for her while she sits and watches intently. she likes to offer to help you just to hear you scoff and say no.

jackie trying to cut your hair with the knife when it starts growing out before someone, probably van, is like "hey, hey, hey. don't forget the scissors."

jackie getting dirty looks because all she does is follow you around and fret.

feels much safer expressing attraction to you out here, mostly because of how the other girls talk about you. I know Mari's ass is out there like, "i mean, she's close enough, right? it's not like there's a lot of options, and Nat already has dibs on Travis..." all thoughtful.

[shaunamilfman]

sooo i see your love of butch r <33 and i'd like to make a request... reader whose been scared to express themself but wants to start exploring their masc side more... reader who is friends with jackie and really nervous to tell her bc jackie can kinda get wrapped up in popularity. but to reader's surprise jackie is really excited a lil TOO excited to take you shopping dress you up cutting your hair and is really possessive abt how JACKIE is the one making you look good. jackie getting more flirty the more masc r leans getting so giddy when ppl think you're her boyfriend. she loves that ppl think you're a guy bc it makes it acceptable to want you. - 🥸

Jackie w/ masc r HC's

note: i just know it's taking her forever to do any solid reflection on this btw.

You tell Jackie that you want to start dressing more masculine, and Jackie hears, “I want you to customize me like I'm one of your Sims.” Over the moon, really. I imagine her asking a bunch of good-natured but very insensitive questions. She means well, but she avoids stuff like that like the plague. Doesn't like to think about it. Wonder why. 

Tries way too hard. “You look so pretty—uh, handsome? Handsome.”

Buys you cologne with her favorite scent. Buys an extra to keep around “for you.” She keeps accidentally spraying it on her pillow. Whoops. 

Getting your hair cut short, and Jackie can't keep her hands out of it. Always running her fingers through it and talking about how soft it is. Styling it with her fingers no matter how much you protest. She always sits herself down in your lap and leans in way too close when she does. If her lips brush against your skin a few times, that's no one's business. 

Jackie takes it as an invitation to mess your hair up whenever you're staying the night. Oh no, now she has to fix it. 

Makes you a bunch of Pinterest boards with different styles and keeps sending them to you, asking which one you like better. There is a correct answer. 

The concept of Jackie absolutely giddy as she buys you sleeveless shirts. Insists on coming into the changing room with you because, “How will you know if it looks good?” As someone who's, like, “totally into men and stuff,” she would know better. Truly an expert in her field. It seems to involve a lot of touching your arms and adjusting how it sits on your waist. 

Jackie gets irrationally jealous whenever girls flirt with you. She never really liked it before, but she feels it even stronger now. Which doesn't make sense to her. If anything, she should be proud that the style she helped cultivate is working so well for you. Regardless, she's hanging off of you for the rest of the night talking about how nice you look. 

You wear something particularly masc one day, and Jackie starts throwing out “heartthrob” and “Casanova”-type” compliments. Slapping your arm and giggling and everything. 

Stares at you all the time. You get insecure about it once, wondering if she thinks you're weird now. You finally bring it up, and she practically falls over herself trying to reassure you. Still can't stop herself from sneaking glances. It's fine to look, right? She just thinks you're hot because you look like a guy now. She can't help that her mind associates the two. Yeah. That's it. 

Jackie realizes you don't correct people in public when they call you sir, and it gets her thinking. She full-on blushes the first time it happens and just starts wondering if people think you're her boyfriend or whatever. Hanging off your arm like she always has looks different now, doesn't it? Meanwhile, you're just trying to avoid getting yelled at. 

But once she starts thinking about it, she can't stop. In signature Jackie Taylor style, she gets obsessed with the idea. 

You go over to Jackie's house one day, and her dad's actually home from work for once and comes storming up the stairs to yell at Jackie for having the door open while she has a boy over. He takes a second look at you and is like, “Oh,” and avoids you every time you come over after. Jackie buries her face into her pillow for a good ten minutes after. She's so embarrassed, but also really pleased? Jackie doesn't know what to make of that. 

Jackie's mother keeps telling her off for hanging out with you, but Jackie's too invested to listen to her mother on this, like she usually does. She can't bring herself to go far enough to actually argue with her, though. Keeps randomly buying you things every time it happens because she feels bad about not actually defending you even though you aren't there. 

Jackie makes you hold all her bags when she drags you to the mall and insists that she's just helping you look the part. Keeps holding your hand as you walk around so that you can practice. It helps that no one thinks anything of it. All the benefits of getting to hold a girl's hand without people actually thinking Jackie's gay.

Jackie steals some of the pieces she buys you and wears them. It's a woman's right to steal her boyfriend's clothes. You're neither a boy nor her boyfriend, but it makes sense in her head. She picks all your clothes out, so it's practically the same thing. Just like having a boyfriend in theory. 

[shaunamilfman]

YES GAWDDDD MELISSA I LOVE YOU AND I NEED YOU bottom melissa is just written in the stars idk she’d only top if you ordered her to LMFAO

AND I STILL PROMISE ONE OF THESE DAYS IMMA READ ALL UR FICS IVE MISSED FUCK

-🦈

Melissa declared bottom at birth I fear. she's really just a girl and so pathetic. fell off if sharks eyes I fear can't bother to catch up 😔

[shaunamilfman]

Genuine shock went through my body when I saw you posted melissa hc’s. Not in a bad way, they were wonderful

If you ever have more do NOT hesitate to post, know that at least one person will see them and enjoy them

yeah i mean i think i will eventually. been rewatching with friends and it reminded me of how much I liked Melissa. like I was waiting for the season to end before I started for characterization reasons and then I forgot about her 😭

[shaunamilfman]

Dating Melissa Yellowjacket HC's

pairing: Melissa x reader note: college au. giving her a try.

One thing about Melissa is that she's such a fucking loser lesbian. Stumbles into any relationship she has. 

Reverting back to her stalker roots and spending a few weekends in a row watching you at parties. You don't notice her at first, but she's not hard to spot. How many blonde girls with backwards pink hats can you catch sight of in the background before you start to get suspicious? Less than Melissa was hoping for. 

She doesn't mean to be creepy or anything; she's just not the most confident. Melissa just needs time to build up courage, and maybe that involves following you around and learning everything you like and what you're like when people aren't around. It's not like she's following you home. It's not creepy, okay? 

It goes one of two ways: either she finally gets the courage to talk to you, or you confront her on the stalking. One seems more likely than the other. 

She's a few drinks in—“liquid courage,” Gen calls it—by the time she gets the courage to approach you. She's spent far too long planning the conversation out only to totally blank and go with, “You're so pretty. Like, the prettiest.” Luckily for her, it works on you. 

Or option two. You finally have enough of Melissa following you around and decide to confront her about it. She's fortunately very susceptible to being pushed back against a car and confronted for being a stalker. Stuttering out the most pathetic excuses you've ever heard while staring directly at your lips. 

Melissa's obsessed. The type to remember every little detail about you just because you mentioned it to her once. She doesn't even think much of it. She finishes a story you don't even realize you're retelling to her once just because she's so excited to hear it again. 

Brings you little knickknacks all the time. Nothing especially expensive, just things she sees that remind her of you. You end up with a bunch of little toys cluttering your shelves that she bought for you with whatever change she could scrounge together between her couch cushions and her part-time job. 

Keeps things that involve you like a hoarder. Receipts from when you bought her dinner, a note you left on her bedside table when you had to leave before she woke up, movie tickets. Doesn't matter, she has it in a box somewhere. So embarrassed she can't form words if you ever found it. Wants to sink into the floor and die.  She's just so sentimental she can't help but keep it.

She's so acts of service. Loves to take your stuff and carry it around for you. It doesn't matter what it is. Plucks your bag off your shoulders to put it on her own. Her bag on one shoulder, yours on the other. Won't let you take it back no matter how ridiculous you tell her she looks. God forbid you like to shop, because she will be holding all of those bags for you and still managing to hold your hand. She's committed and stubborn. 

Incredibly easy to fluster. Always one comment away from stuttering and blushing and avoiding eye contact. 

Finds you like a heat-seeking missile the second she has a single drink. It somehow manages to make her even clingier than usual. You'll find her at the party with her head buried in your shoulder and her arms wrapped around you, rambling about whatever, more likely than not. 

Hoards voice messages. She listens to you ramble on about whatever story was long enough to require one whenever she starts to miss you a little (happens often). Sometimes she listens to them for other reasons, but she would die before admitting it. 

So many pictures and videos of you on her phone that she has to start deleting vital apps to make way for them. She's sitting with you while you're doing homework and is bored to near tears because she deleted all her games off her phone.

Loves mentioning you in casual conversation even if it doesn't relate. Someone will be talking about an assignment, and she's like, “Yeah, my girlfriend wrote an essay last week.” 

Related, she loves to call you her girlfriend. Treats the word like it's sacred. Every time she says it, she smiles to herself. Refers to you as her girlfriend more often than she does by name in casual conversation.

Sends you pictures all the time. A dog she saw on her walk to class, a pretty tree, anything and everything. She just likes to make you feel like a part of her life. 

True lover girl, she's making you playlists like it's going out of style. Makes individualized ones for your dates depending on the location. A playlist for when you're happy, or sad, or getting ready. She's trying to account for everything. They don't even all make their way to you. Some are for her ears only. It gets so bad that they have their own folders. So hesitant the first time she sends you a link for one, like she's afraid you're going to think she's too much for it. 

Melissa's terrified you're going to think she's clingy or too much. She's been burned in the past and doesn't want you to think she's that girl. 

Appears out of nowhere if someone even looks in your direction. Less possessive and more just jealous. She's not the type to get mad about it, just sad and distant if she thinks you're encouraging it. She's quiet, not hanging off of you like she usually does. Unsure if it's welcome. Melissa hates when someone else makes you laugh. It's easy to make it up to her as long as you're mean enough about the girl later. 

The girl loves to be a part of inside jokes. It makes her feel special, like she has a real connection to you.

All of her friends know you by sight, a result of listening to her ramble on about you and the specific shade of your eyes at noon when you laughed at a joke she made over a coffee date one time.

She always offers you the best parts of her food. The biggest slice of pizza, the fries with the most seasoning on them, the center of her cinnamon roll. She's not even mad about it. She's always so excited to give you things she thinks you want. 

Leaves her hoodies out strategically because she wants you to steal them. 

She tries so hard to make you laugh that it's dangerous for her health. The type to hurt herself a little if she thinks you'd laugh at her tripping. 

She's a big fan of surprises, especially if they involve quality time. Anything and everything to spend time with you.

Knows your schedule better than her own. The type of girl to be hanging out with you and then suddenly curse and get up and start running to class because she forgot. But she'll be outside of one of your classes at least once a week with a drink for you while she walks with you wherever you're going. 

So starved for affection, she'll take it in any way that you'll give it to her. You'll have to scrape her off the floor afterwards if you ever pepper kisses all over her place. She loves a good hug. Good luck prying her off of you. 

That one post where it's like, “Came home drunk and got too excited to see my cat,” and he's just covered in lipstick marks? That's Melissa. Makes it her profile picture for months after. You wake up the next morning to find her lying next to you still covered in lipstick with the goofiest smile on her face even in her sleep. 

She's always ready to fight someone for you, even though she'd probably get her ass kicked. Has a fantasy she won't admit to about you cleaning up her bloody knuckles. 

Late to see you at least once because she fussed over doing those little braids in her hair to dress up for you and lost track of time. Wore her nicest, cleanest hat for you too. 

Obligatory mention of taking her hat off of her and putting it on your head. 

Last but not least. Bottom Melissa truther. Have you seen that girl? 

[shaunamilfman]

too lazy to make a new post ❤️

Stick Season (We'll All Be Here Forever) by Noah Kahan

Sempiternal by Bring Me The Horizon

Folklore by Taylor Swift

Hozier by Hozier

OK computer by Radiohead

Hybrid Theory by Linkin Park

The Queen Is Dead by The Smiths

tags

whoever hacked @ultrone.

@rhiannonsknife i guess? no pressure.

i don't know like anyone else on here lmaoo so whoever wants to.

Thank you to my wonderful mutual @mathewboeser for the tag 🩵

"you just got a kind of shitty old car and it doesn’t have bluetooth. you can only buy 7 CDs and you can’t repeat an artist. what are you getting?"

Nothing Happens by Wallows

Strange Trails by Lord Huron

Cry by Cigarettes after Sex

Wasteland, Baby by Hozier

Stick Season (We’ll All Be Here Forever) by Noah Kahan

Don’t Forget About Me, Demos by Dominic Fike

AM by Arctic Monkeys

No pressure tags

@softcurveballs

@rookontheice

@shaunamilfman

(Btw if anyone ever wants to talk ab music, either has similar tastes, recommendations or anything I’m ALWAYS down! Literally please)

[shaunamilfman]

i'm really good at long anons LOL so here we are.

hahaaa she has both the attitude and the real power (the constant 'youre fired' is great) the way you've written it makes it seem like this is one of the parts she gets off on most

oh i totally agree, r seems to get more emotionally involved; jackie seems to be compartmentalizing hard to her benefit. taking the emotional/sexual satisfaction she needs for herself. something pretty hot about that. jackie getting jealous is also mmm <33

also i don't know how i didn't mention it in my first anon but jackie slapping r across the face is just. yeah. yeah. yes ms taylor thank you ms taylor

yes!! not enough masc reader and i especially love the idea of this butchfemme office dynamic. do you have any other ideas for this jackie and reader?

-🎲

jackie just constantly firing r who just has to take it in stride because what else could you do?? like the first few times r has this like reaction to it and jackie has to be like "get my lunch before you go" and then just assigns confused r more work when you get back kinda thing lmaoo.

i mean i think jackie genuinely likes r she's very possessive of you throughout the fic i just think it wouldn't occur to her that the two of you being exclusive would even be a conversation because obviously your hers now you have been the whole time. as for the sexual part, yeah. always does. jackie insisting she's not jealous because what would she have to be jealous of? says some shit like "its not jealousy to not want someone else to drive your car". just something so possessive like that.

jackie slapping r was inspired im glad you see the vision. i think jackie as i've written her in this verse just toes the line of like actually hurting r all the time which is where she likes it. slaps you just hard enough to feel it, grabs you just hard enough to get your attention, etc etc. now the nails are a different story because she's definitely clawing r up.

i don't really have any specific ideas to continue it at the moment, no. i'm in the middle of writing a really long set of fics so it'll probably be a bit before i get around to it unless i get like super inspired but i wouldn't mind returning to it maybe.

[shaunamilfman]

dude... i'm new to your account, & i'm on anon so i don't expose myself, but your latest fic 'does your mother know?' holy SHIT i needed that so bad you have no idea. the premise itself is chef's kiss, and the banter between jackie and reader is so addictive. it gives us so much insight into their relationship and how they're even able to get where they went in the first place.

jackie having r put on her heels had my jaw on the floor, i almost never see that scene in fic and it is always amazing to read.

jackie's casual power, demanding attitude, and entitlement to r is actually so hot (no i won't be unpacking that) all while she's so susceptible to r's teasing is just. yes. that's my type.

when jackie said "can't a girl add some spark to her relationship without wanting something" i immediately thought of a part two expanding on them with the classic "we didn't discuss boundaries before we started fucking and now neither of us wants to be vulnerable" which you opened the door for so nicely (r holding jackie in their lap, the way jackie looks out for r.)

and also a bit where r gets to calling jackie 'ms taylor' is a NEED. i'm such a sucker for an office situationship with a hot older boss that is simultaneously mean to you and lets you get away with things nobody else could-

thank you so much for writing, and thank you especially for writing for butch/masc reader <3

can i be🎲if it's not taken :)

bro this is actually so nice i love getting long anons like theseeee. welcome to my account even if you're late to the party anon.

i'm really glad you like the banter! it's what i think i struggle with most when writing but also what i think makes or breaks a fic so that's really nice to hear. writing jackie in this one was really fun just because of how like mean/teasing she could be. just bossing you around and knowing you can't respond quite on the same level to it? fun fun fun.

oh the heel scene is one of my favorites lmaoo me and soffsh came up with it when we were talking about the fanart originally and i started putting typing it up feverishly.

no jackie's entitlement in general is so good (one of my fav parts of her character) but her having like actual power over r to back it up makes it so much better in the sense that she genuinely sees r as something that's hers. her assistant. her employee. etc. flirty banter gets jackie in every universe she can dish it but the second she gets it back she gets a little nervous. what a woman.

i do think they'd probably fall into that but i feel more on r's side than jackies? just because of course you'd be dating jackie now that you're hooking up. your hers and you've always been hers. you're not allowed to have someone else. but then r would be there freaking out and second guessing i think based on the dynamic i've written so far.

jackie eats up the Ms. Taylor thing too i just know she's diabolical with it.

yeah of course! i really like writing (obviously) so i have a lot of fun with it too. i always write r masc honestly even if it's not explicitly stated in the tags like this one. i just think r is usually femme and i enjoy writing the sort of fic i would want to read yknow? so if that's important to you anon enjoy the rest of my fics lmaoo.

[shaunamilfman]

does your mother know?

pairing: Jackie Taylor x masc/butch!r summary: Jackie's been a titan in her industry for the last ten years. You're her hapless assistant she snapped up fresh out of college. She insists that you can't do anything right, but that's okay. You look good in a tie. And on your knees, probably. She hasn't gotten around to that. Yet. note: heavy on minors dni. based on this jackieshauna fanart i saw on twitter. most self-indulgent thing i've ever written i fear.

A shrill call of your name has you jumping out of your seat, your office chair rolling back into the wall as you hurry around your desk toward the door of the large office in the middle of the room. It's the third time just today that she's called for you suddenly like that, despite her continued ability to just message you, so you don't even flinch anymore at the interruption. She's trained you out of that. 

“Yes, Ms. Taylor,” you say as you step through the always open door. It was supposed to be some kind of metaphor about how you could always ask her for help since her door was always open, but you mostly believe it's to spy on her employees. 

Mainly you. 

You're not sure what she did with her day before she hired you 8 months ago right out of college. Honestly, you're not sure how you managed to get the job in the first place. Jackie Taylor was a well-known name—has been for nearly ten years—and one you definitely weren't qualified to work for in the first place. Somehow you had managed to ace the in-person interview with Jackie. You'd only applied for a laugh, but here you were. 

In hell. 

“Took you long enough.” She sniffs, eyes narrowing as she leans forward in her chair. “Is that a new cologne?”

Your eyes widen. “I, uh, yeah. Yes, I mean. It was a gift.” 

“A gift,” she repeats. “A gift from whom?”

“Someone. A woman. Did you need help with something?”

“Did I need help with something,” she mutters, seemingly letting the cologne thing go. You knew she wasn't. She was just waiting to bring it back up when you least expected it. When you're the most vulnerable. She was good like that. “Do you think I just called you in here to stare at you?”

Maybe. She's done it before when you came in with a tighter shirt. You couldn't prove it, but you knew from how flustered she seemed the entire day. Unfortunately, she's definitely calling you in to pile more tasks on you. 

You flip your notepad open, pen poised to write down notes faster than she spoke them as you look up at her expectantly. Jackie almost preens as you snap to attention, a pleased curl of her lips as she starts rolling off instruction after instruction. It's everything you can do to keep up with her at the best of times, and this was no exception. By the time she's finished, and you've gotten ink covering three pages and your fingertip, you feel like your hand has run a marathon of its own. 

Practice for tonight, maybe, if your date went well. You smile at the thought. 

You look back down at your sprawling notes, the tasks seeming to go on forever. If you’re fast enough, and you usually are—a product of being threatened with unemployment at least once a day through sharply worded emails or even sharper smiles—you’ll be able to finish it with just enough time to make it to the restaurant. Still in your work clothes, but you thought you made the tie work for you. A lot of women did, Jackie included.

That little smirk she wore after, like she was daring you to comment on it. It was nice to catch her staring, even if a part of you thought that you should go to HR about it. If Jackie had been a man, you wouldn’t have hesitated to do so. But Jackie was decidedly not a man. Not in those tight pencil skirts that seem to accentuate every inch of her hips and her thighs. Or those heels of hers that made her legs seem impossibly long even though she had to look up at you to address you.

Much to her continued chagrin.

She hated that you were taller. Hated that she had to tilt her chin up. But she never said anything. She just narrowed her eyes and found a new bullshit reason to call you to her office.

The point was, no one was going to HR. Your boss pervs on you from time to time, yes, but it’s not like she was some creepy old man with a wedding ring he forgot to take off. She has a good ten years on you, but time has been nothing but good to her. You would be jealous at how well she’s aging if you weren’t so busy thinking about bending her over any available surface at least half the time. And she was single. Blissfully single, if you hear her tell it. 

You don’t think that last part’s entirely true. Jackie’s the kind of woman you imagine attached at the hip with her partner, tripping over each other’s feet. If you have to take a guess, the only reason Jackie went home to an empty house was her commitment to her job. She was married to it and expected the same out of the rest of you. It was why her department tended to have such a high turnover rate, but her results spoke for themselves. There were few people in her field as well known as her, especially at how young she is.

Maybe you have a bit of a power crush on top of your real, actual crush. Whatever. It’s not like it could make you any less fired if she finds out about it. If she doesn’t already know. Knowing Jackie, she probably does. That woman seems to know everything. It was her trade, after all.

“Are you even listening to me?” Jackie asks, giving you a glare as you visibly startle out of your thoughts. 

You shake your head sheepishly, adjusting your grip on your pen. It was far too expensive for something you would buy for yourself, but Jackie had presented it to you a few months ago with a command not to leave a Bic in her company car ever again. You’re sure she had her driver burn it. You half expect the one in your hand to self-destruct if you ever displease her too much. Jackie has the kind of money that could buy that kind of thing if she really wanted to.

“You're fired,” she says flatly, waving a manicured hand in your direction dismissively.

You hum in acknowledgement, finishing up the last of your notes. “And will you still want lunch from—” 

“My usual. Yes.” Her voice softens just the slightest, a flicker of something indulgent in her voice before she plays it off. Jackie pinches the bridge of her nose as she leans back in her chair, her reading glasses pressed higher against her face.

You catch yourself watching her. Again. There’s something calculated in the way she sits in her chair, one leg crossing over the other at the knee. Like she’s giving you just enough rope to hang yourself with, and nothing more. Not an inch more.

She rests her head on her hands as she finally looks back at you. “Well, go. Do I need to hold your hand? 

You try not to think too hard about that last part. 

**

“Busy night?” Jackie asks, just as you reach her door to let her know you were about to head out. 

There's a sinking feeling in your chest as you wait in the doorway. The two of you are the last ones left in your department, working hours past when everyone else went home. That's how it usually went with Jackie. She works her employees hard and herself harder. Jackie seems to see you as an extension of herself. That usually just fucks you over twice as hard.

She carefully slides her glasses down the bridge of her nose, folding them up gently as she places them on her desk and looks up at you. 

“No,” you lie, rocking guiltily on the balls of your feet. Your expensive leather shoes, a graduation present you were stuck with in your fancy office job, squeak obnoxiously as you do so, making you wince. Jackie lets out a long-suffering sigh as she stares down at them before meeting your eyes again. The kind that wears you down before she even opens her mouth.

“No?” she asks slowly, folding her hands up in her lap. 

Fuck. 

She knows. 

“Ihaveadate,” you mutter, eyes downcast. Maybe if you don't look at her, she won't yell as loudly? It's never worked for you before, but you can't fight the urge. God knows why she seems so possessive of your time. She never got mad at anyone else for having plans outside of work, but whenever you did, she acted like it was a personal affront to her sensibilities. 

“What?” Her voice isn’t raised, but it cuts you just the same

“I have a date.” 

Jackie sits back in her chair, a look of disappointment crossing her face. It's not like you can avoid it, not with the way she sits there staring at you in silence. You squirm at the intensity of it as you finally bring yourself to meet her eyes again. That look wasn't anything you think you can ever grow used to. It's not the same look she gives you when you fuck one of her impossible tasks up. This was more personal and far more cutting for it. 

It makes you want to plead for forgiveness just about the same amount as it makes you want to take her by her shoulders and shake her. It wasn't any of her business what you do after work, right? This was crazy. 

“It’s not during work. I finished everything.”

“You scheduled a date during your working hours, and you're just going to rush out of here without finishing it?”

“I did finish. And everyone else left hours ago. ” You can’t help but protest, pulling out your notepad and flipping to all the tasks she'd given you earlier that day. Every single one of them was checked off. You had even started on some of the tasks you knew needed to be done tomorrow. You show her as much, but she doesn't seem impressed. She doesn’t even glance at it.

“And yet,” Jackie says slowly, gesturing to a fat stack of papers on her desk. “Your work remains.” 

“That’s not—that’s not fair,” you insist, suddenly feeling childish. The words just fall out, shaky and small. Like you're ten years old and being denied recess. It only makes you feel so much younger than you are, especially when standing in front of Jackie Taylor.

“Fair?”

Jackie scoffs, standing up out of her seat and walking up to you. You can barely stammer out an excuse before she’s grabbing onto your tie, right near the top where her fist curls around and pulls. You follow the motion unconsciously, gasping as it tightens around your throat and makes it harder to breathe. It’s not as bad when you lean down, eye to eye with Jackie for maybe the first time ever.

“Enough,” Jackie says, staring you straight in the eyes. You gulp, nodding rapidly and gasping as it tightens your tie around your throat. Her tone is cold and as firm as you've ever heard it. It goes straight through you in a way that's entirely too pleasant. It takes effort to avoid doing something humiliating.

Suddenly she’s off, pulling you by the tie behind her as she leads you through the office building, stumbling after her. She almost shoves you into your chair, your body hitting the chair with a thud that sends the chair back into the wall. Jackie leans down, one arm braced on the chair on the other side of your head. You’re breathing far too quickly for someone sitting on their ass in an office building.

“You’re not going on that date.”

You nod, again, at a loss for words. Jackie stomps off, and you take a moment to loosen your tie around your neck and try not to gasp too loudly for breath as you do. She slams the paperwork down on your desk with a thud, sparing one glance to the clock in the corner of the floor before heading back to her office.

What a bummer.

…

When you come in the next day, it’s to see security dragging out the friend you’d talked to about your date the day before out of Jackie’s office. She’s crying, a box of her things clutched in her arm as they escort her toward the elevator. You watch with wide eyes until the elevator doors close behind her, slowly turning to face Jackie’s office only to see her leaning in the doorway watching you.

She gives you a little wave with her fingers, a smug look on her face, before she turns and disappears into her office like nothing’s even happened. You sit down wearily at your desk, slowly starting your computer up as you stare in the direction of Jackie’s office, like the walls could explain what just happened.

How is this your life?

…

The screen of your computer starts to feel like it’s staring back at you in what you’re sure is a side effect of only pretending to work. You had run out of things to do at least an hour ago, when you had last been brave enough to glance toward the clock, and have been clicking around on Excel to look busy ever since. 

Normally your days ended in a rush, struggling to finish what you’ve been assigned, but as you’re going on twelve straight hours of sitting in this chair, even Jackie ran out of tasks to give you.

“You’ll think of something,” she had assured you two hours ago before she slipped into a Zoom meeting you weren’t invited to. A group of investors halfway across the world that would only meet on their time, you're sure. 

The only question was why you still have to be here. Sure, you’re her assistant and all, but it wasn’t like she was actually letting you do anything at the moment. You reach for your coffee—cold. You look out the window—dark. You click another row, highlighting a row of numbers.

“Now,” Jackie calls out, and you can’t smile at the command. Smile. You’re so bored sitting here that you’re actually excited to be given more work. Like a dog summoned for a chore. She might as well give you a leash with how eager you are to do what she says. You hurry up and into her office, trying not to look too relieved as you stand by her desk. 

Despite calling you over, she doesn’t immediately give you something to do. She doesn’t even look at you as she types away at her computer, far too focused on whatever she was doing to even spare you a glance. Not a word, not a glance, not even a flicker of acknowledgement. That was… that was something.

You shift your weight from foot to foot as you stand there, hands resting by your sides as your fingers tap against your pants pockets idly. Does she want you to announce yourself or just wait for her to start speaking? Maybe this was your task, just to stand here waiting like an extra in an office movie without a speaking line. You wish you could see the screen from this angle, if only to see what she was working on.

A spreadsheet? An email? A memo from an office where assistants had something to do?

You start to wonder if she forgot you’re standing here when she suddenly starts to speak. “I need you to get on your knees.”

“Ex–excuse me?” You ask, wondering if you somehow heard her wrong. This was the kind of thing women like Jackie said in movies. A very specific type of movie that you wouldn’t admit to ever watching.

“Don’t be weird,” she says, rolling her eyes as she pushes away from her desk. Clearly unimpressed with the way you’re staring at her in shock and a tiny bit of awe. She waves her pantyhose-covered foot in your direction. “Help me put my heels on.”

Her heels are sitting just under the desk, where they always are when she’s alone in her office. She barely sits down before she slips them off, as you’ve witnessed a hundred times. You can’t imagine that they were all that comfortable, so you never questioned it. You’ve also never been asked to help her put them on before, either.

“My back hurts,” she adds, a light blush coloring her cheeks at the admission. That ten or so years on you catching up on her, it seems. You soften slightly, eyeing her heels with a sigh as you slowly sink to your knees on her carpeted office floor. This definitely was not in your job description.

The floor was firm beneath your knees, the kind of cheap carpet you only find in office buildings or schools. There was barely enough cushioning there for you to even consider it carpeting, but it was enough to stop the position from actively being uncomfortable for the moment. A win for you after a long day of losses. You almost have to crawl under the desk to reach her shoes, an activity not helped by the way Jackie plants herself in her chair like a tree, not moving even an inch out of the way to make the whole endeavor easier for you.

You wonder if a part of her just enjoys humiliating you. Moreover, you wonder how fucked up you have to be to like that thought. They’re lighter in your hand than you imagined them being. You’re surprised by the thought even as it crosses your mind, looping one finger through the straps of both heels as you shuffle back on your knees and raise them up questioningly.

“Do you see any other shoes down there?” She answers. You huff as you sit them on the ground by the side of her desk. Maybe it would’ve been a dumb question if the woman hadn’t owned so many pairs of shoes. You’ve been here for months and months, and she’s barely even repeated an outfit. Her closets must have closets, okay? It makes sense to check. You might have said such if looking up at her from this angle didn’t make your throat feel like it was closing up whenever you caught so much as a glance at the hem of her skirt so close to your face. 

It was like the protective glass in the museum had disappeared.

“I don’t, Ms. Taylor.”

She nods, gesturing down to her foot impatiently. Slowly, like you’re waiting for her to slap your hand away, you pick up the shoe and bring it toward her foot. You start with the easy one, her left foot hanging in the air where she has her leg crossed over the other. As your fingers run over the expensive red bottom, you worry about your mediocrity rubbing off on it. It wasn’t the type of shoe people in your tax bracket tended to see this closely, let alone touch. There you are, fumbling with something that probably costs more than your rent.

Jackie doesn’t say much as she sits above you, just watching you with those eyes of hers like she was taking in every single detail of it. You hold the bottom of her shoe to the sole of her foot with one hand as you draw the straps around her ankle, fiddling with the clasp for an embarrassingly long moment before you figure it out. It was far too small, making your fingers feel abnormally large and clumsy.

She’s still silent in a way that’s unusual for her. You can’t imagine her being this quiet in an office full of people, so she has to be at least somewhat affected by your presence. The idea is more soothing than it should be, relaxing you enough for you to move on to her next shoe with far more confidence than you had started with.

It’s the only reason you find yourself grabbing her ankle firmly, squeezing with enough pressure to force a gasp past her lips as you lift her foot off the ground. You slip her heel on with the same gentle dedication you did with the first, feeling brave enough to stroke her ankle with your thumb as you clasp her shoe together.

That bravery carries just long enough for you to sit her heel back on the ground, hands pressing against your thighs as you start to rise to your feet only to suddenly be pinned back against the edge of the desk by one heeled foot. The desk digs into your back, a complement to the feeling of the sharp tip of her heel pressing into your chest. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, quite literally.

There’s an effortless authority in the gesture that has you remaining tight-lipped, not able to voice a single protest about the treatment even if you had wanted to. You aren’t sure that you did. Whether you could muster up the courage, you’ll never know, because Jackie pulls her foot away just as quickly as she had positioned it there. 

She’s not even touching you anymore, but you swear you can still feel the echo of it against you. The lack of sleep was probably making you hallucinate. That was probably the explanation for why you swear that Jackie seemed contemplative for a moment before she let you go.

“Are you ready?” you ask, looking down at her in her chair as you rise unsteadily to your feet. Her eyes are wide. Just wide enough that you start to wonder if you somehow crossed a line during the whole thing. Maybe holding her ankle still the way you did was a little too much for someone like her.

“No.”

You try not to visibly deflate as you stare out the windows of her office longingly. 

“Yes, ma’am,” you murmur. Jackie makes a little sound that you can only assume is dismissive at the words.

There went any chance of getting a decent night's sleep. Not, of course, that you’ve gotten one in months. If you aren’t at work, you’re dreaming of it anymore. Lately your dreams have taken on a singular nature that you can’t think about right now lest Jackie somehow read it out of your mind.

“No,” she repeats. “You go on ahead. I just need to finish something up.”

“Okay.” You aren’t giving her a chance to take it back as you give her a little wave and hurry your way out of her office and pull your jacket right off your chair. As you wait for the elevator, you hear a noise that sounds suspiciously breathy, but you put it out of your mind. Tonight, at least, the only date you have is with your mattress.

…

That constant brush, brush, brush of Jackie's bare thigh against your slacks during the dinner with investors you definitely aren't important enough to be invited to is driving you insane. No, you're past insane. Took a left at Crazy Town and blew through the stop signs to keep on driving. 

At first you were willing to brush it off as mere coincidence, but now you know better. It was too deliberate of a touch for it to be anything but a purposeful attack on your restraint. A brush here or there was fine—understandable, even. The too-cramped chairs crowded together around the table lent themselves to that excuse fairly handily until that slow drag of skin started, too undeniable in its intentions.

It’s just—you’ve thought about it, dreamed about it, even, but you never actually thought it could happen. Jackie’s actions, as blatant as they sometimes felt, could always be explained away by misinterpretation or just someone lacking boundaries until now. Everything you’ve wanted for months is being presented to you on a silver platter right now, and all you have to do is take it. 

That time you would usually take to think these kinds of things through has gone out the window. You don’t want to think. You don’t want to wait. Not when she’s so obviously asking for it.

Fine, you can let Jackie win. You’ve found so far that she usually does, but it doesn’t mean that you have to go down without a fight. You slip your non-dominant hand beneath the table casually, only to rest it firmly on her thigh. 

She tenses in the seat next to you, fork halfway to her lips and trembling just the slightest amount before she recovers. A question posed to her by an investor that Jackie answers masterfully, betrayed only by the minuscule quiver to her voice as your pinky curls beneath the hem of her dress. 

Her eyes bore into the side of you whenever she gets a moment away from the conversation, but you don’t want to look over at her and give away the game. You aren’t about to give up the free food they keep putting in front of you. Jackie doesn’t pay you enough to afford eating here. It only seems to irritate her more each time you bring your fork up to your lips like your hand isn’t where it is.

You don’t move your hand beyond that for a while, letting it be a constant weight that Jackie grows used to before you strike. Jackie seems almost relieved as you move your hand toward her knee. Relieved, but disappointed too. Both those emotions disappear as you slip your hand beneath her dress. 

Slowly at first, gauging her reaction before you get too far. There’s nothing on her face to give her away besides a light flush that could be attributed to a number of things, but then she carefully disguises spreading her legs for you as shifting in her chair. It was a barely-there parting of her knees, an invitation disguised as indifference—a Jackie Taylor specialty, lately—but it’s enough.

Bingo.

Her hand wraps around your wrist, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise. Hard enough to remind you who’s really in charge here It’s not a no or a stop. You know that much immediately. It was too possessive for that.

Can’t have any ideas going to your head, right?

That’s okay. 

That’s your favorite part.

**

“You can go home after you drop me off,” Jackie addresses her driver, fingers tapping away as she drafts an email on her phone. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen her stop working. 

What would that even take short of a minor miracle or a lotto win?

You slump down in your seat, looking up at the ceiling as you try not to visibly react. You must have really fucked something up at dinner if she wasn’t letting her driver take you home. Could she fire you for that when she was the one spreading her legs? You felt sure enough in the moment that you could’ve updated your job description to include it, but now you can feel the dread creeping up your throat.

Jackie nudges you with her knee, confusion slipping into concern into disappointment when you don't immediately respond to her flirty smile. Her lips purse before she catches herself and turns away as she tries to reel it back in. You don’t let her.

“He can go home because…” You trail off, needing to hear her say it. Just once. None of that ambiguity she’s been teasing you along with.

She hesitates, thumbs hovering over her phone indecisively. You imagine there must be a lot more risk to her answering that question than there was to you asking. She was your boss, after all, and the one that would ultimately get in trouble if she came onto you unwillingly. It would be her name splashed across the papers in the end, with you as nothing more than an unnamed twenty-something assistant. 

“You’re coming home with me,” Jackie confirms, shoulders straightening as she regains that air of confidence you know so well.

“Yeah, alright.” The words come out too quickly through nerves. 

“Yeah, alright,” Jackie mutters. “What am I thinking? Wait, hold on. Did you think I was going to make you walk home?”

You avoid eye contact as you suddenly find something far more interesting to look at through the heavily tinted windows. Mostly, you can just see Jackie’s reflection behind you as she shakes her head and turns her attention back to her phone. Dedicated to the end, that one. You half expect her to pull her phone out when you finally get down to it to shoot off one last email, but you hope even she has enough sense to leave it on a table somewhere.

Would she consider that foreplay? Her eyes scanning across her phone with one hand entwined in your hair, guiding you exactly where she wants you. Not rushed or frantic, not even affected by you as she works. Like it’s something she’s come to expect. Sending off an email while you’re between her legs, maybe even signing off with Best regards as you make her come.

The idea sends you down a line of thought that involves sexy emails before you can decide how ridiculous the concept is. 

You can imagine her sitting in a bed—you’ve never seen it, but you imagine it as the sprawling monstrosity it must be, far too large for her and covered in pillows with the softest sheets on the market—shooting you off an email. No subject line, just a message: Review Attached. Urgent. Maybe a photo, maybe something more.

It sounds like a fast track to an HR violation. Probably illegal. Definitely unethical. That might be what makes it fun for her. She’s never been all that shy. 

Jackie’s still sitting beside you, typing away. You wonder if she knows the effect she’s having on you without even trying as the driver pulls up to the front of her building. She pats your thigh affectionately as you start to open the door, sliding across the seat to slip out behind you.

Right. 

This was happening.

You follow behind Jackie on the way up to her apartment, if you could call the penthouse an apartment. You’ve never actually set foot inside this building despite how many times you’ve waited in the car with her driver, but you can’t bear to look at anything besides Jackie now that  you know how the night is going to end. It’s not like you won’t have time to look at the lobby during your inevitable walk of shame whenever Jackie kicks you out.

She steps inside her penthouse with that regal air that always follows her around the office, setting her things down with seemingly no rhyme or reason to their placement. There's some form of organization to it, but just like her desk, you find that it's a mystery to prying eyes. Just the way she likes it. 

Jackie saunters over to you, thumbs hooking in your belt as she presses herself up against your chest. 

“Ms. Taylor,” you murmur instinctively, flushing when it makes Jackie let out a low laugh.

“Not here,” she answers, pausing to consider before shaking her head. “Not right now, anyway. Maybe…”

If she has something else to say, she keeps it to herself.

You can work with that.

“Jackie,” you amend, enjoying the way the syllables feel in your mouth.

“Sounds nice when you say it.” A smile spreads across her lips. A real one, not the one she gives investors. It’s nice. “Again.” 

“Jackie.” 

The name barely leaves your lips before her lips are on yours, gentle but insistent as she rests a hand on your face to tilt your chin down. She kisses you like she’s been waiting for it, holding back just long enough to really savor it—savor you—before she fully commits to it. Her palm is so warm that you can feel the entirety of her hand against your skin as she guides you with that same quiet authority she always has. 

Even that has nothing on the way her tongue feels brushing against you as she parts her lips, coaxing rather than demanding, as you would’ve expected from her. It’s maddening in its contrast, enough to make you feel dizzy as you chase after her when she tries to pull away for air. She smiles against your lips, allowing you a few more desperate moments before she pushes you away with gentle hands.

Not a rejection, just a pause, but damn if it doesn’t feel that way for a moment. You stumble back half a step, already missing the feeling of her lips against yours. She’s the kind of woman you can get addicted to, and you’re already starting to fear what that might mean for the future.

Her chest moves rapidly as she catches her breath, drawing your attention down and down until you can’t help but sneak a peek down the top of her blouse. You didn’t figure she would mind all that much. In fact, she seems to welcome the attention as she strokes a lazy thumb along your jaw. It feels more affectionate than it should be and more than a little possessive.

She slips her hand down from your belt, sliding into each of your pockets and emptying them. Keys, wallet, headphones—whatever you have on you ends up strewn across the table by the door. Her eyes don’t leave yours, but her fingers return to hook her fingers into the waistband of your slacks. 

Jackie tugs, and you follow. Willingly. Happily. You would follow her anywhere she likes right about now. If only she wasn’t so smug about it, but then you might not like her half as much as you do. She leads you right into her bedroom without a moment of hesitation.

You’re not sure what you’re more impressed about: the fact that she’s walking backward through her apartment or the fact that she’s doing it in those heels. 

Jackie's just barely through the doorway before you surge forward, pressing her back against the wall and trapping her hands between your bodies. She manages to free her hands with nothing short of a smirk, but all thoughts of protest slip away as you slot your knee between hers. 

She gasps, grabbing at the back of your shirt as you drag her hips forward. It's taken as the hint it was, Jackie picking it right up as you split your attention between helping her grind against your thigh and mouthing at her neck. You want so badly to suck on that perfect, unmarked skin of her neck. To bite down and leave her with more than just a memory of the night, but more than anything you want to still have a job in the morning. 

You'll save it for somewhere she can hide it. You're generous like that. She should be grateful she has such an amazing assistant. 

You can't feel her as much as you want to through the fabric of your pants, but the warmth of her as she rolls her hips up against your thigh is undeniable. That wet drag of fabric as she lets out the best little noises against your ear before turning her head to bury it into your neck. 

A hand comes up to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back as she takes a turn with the skin peeking out above the collar of your dress shirt. 

“Jackie, fuck.” 

“Just—just stay there,” Jackie demands. She has none of the same concern for leaving marks on you that you had for her, seeming to delight in the concept. It only makes her more eager to move against your thigh. 

“You're the boss.” 

“I am.” The words are almost thoughtful as she pushes you a step back, hands resting on your shoulders. 

She doesn’t give you a second to get your bearings together before she’s pushing you back onto her bed with a strength you weren’t aware she possessed.

She’s got one of your shoes untied before you even manage to prop yourself up on your elbows to look at her, pulling one and then the other off in a flash. 

“Scoot up,” Jackie says, pointing one finger up at her pillows.

(Just as many as you expected there would be.)

You settle down somewhere in the middle of them, looking for reassurance only to find Jackie kicking off her heels at the foot of the bed. She reaches behind her back, and her dress comes off with far less gravitas than you were expecting. Maybe she lost her desire to make a show out of it somewhere between your hand slipping up her dress and being pinned against the wall.

Either way, you couldn't help but stare. Slowly she puts one knee on the bed, crawling up to your side and giving you another kiss.

“Jackie,” you murmur afterward, hands reaching for her hips to pull her onto your lap. Jackie takes only a moment to swing her leg over your hip before settling down. You run your hands up her bare thighs the moment you get a chance to, finally seeing the legs that have been taunting you all night.

She doesn’t rush you now like she rushed you back into her room. She just watches, letting you explore. And explore you do, taking in every inch of skin that’s been presented to you until Jackie sighs, grabbing your tie and rolling it around her fist as she forces your attention back on her face. 

“Is that all you’re going to do?” Jackie asks, leaning close enough that you can feel the words about as much as you can hear them. 

“I was getting there.” 

You cut Jackie off before she starts to say whatever snide retort she has at the go, fingertips slipping just beneath the waistband of her panties before she catches your wrist and stops you. 

“Say please,” she orders, eager enough that you're sure she wouldn't be able to actually follow through if you didn't. There was a chance, though. Jackie was so stubborn at times.

A part of you enjoys following her orders. Enough that you do it without much thought.

“Please.”

Jackie’s expression shifts immediately into satisfaction, a reward that you’re happy to indulge in. Her hand pulls tighter around your tie, almost choking you as she slips her panties off. She won't give you enough room to look at anything other than her face—flushed and hungry—leaving you to blindly move your hand to find her entrance. 

She's wet enough that it takes a moment, fingers sliding across damp skin until you finally find what you're looking for. Her eyes meet yours and don't look away, hips rising just enough to sink down on your fingers with a breathy sigh. 

The tie tightens again as she exhales through her teeth, rolling her hips down impatiently enough that it clues you in on what to do.

“Shit, sorry,” you mutter, meeting her thrust for thrust as she settles into a rhythm.

A hand cracks across your cheek. Not enough to bruise, but enough to sting as you watch her through wide eyes. The skin tingles, feeling like it shoots adrenaline through your body. Fuck, you want her to do it again. 

“Should’ve expected you’d need help with this too.” The words are harsh, but the way the end breaks into a moan as you curl your fingers is enough to soothe the wound. 

You don’t bother to answer. You just give her what she wants, fingers working in fast, deliberate strokes that make her thighs tremble. Jackie leans into it, chasing that pleasure with every roll of her hips. Her hand shakes from the effort of holding onto your tie so tightly, but her eyes stay locked onto yours like she was daring you to look away.

When your palm presses against her clit, the noise she lets out is far needier than anything else you’ve heard from her tonight. Maybe ever. It was light at first, then firmer at her reaction. All you want to do is please her. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. It was quite literally your job, though this application was far outside your job description.

Her head tilts up, finally breaking eye contact as she lets go of your tie to hold onto your shoulders. You sit up, one arm wrapping around the small of her back to hold her as she buries her face into your shoulder. She clenches hard around you at the change in angle, whining into your neck as she speeds up. You hold still now, letting her set the pace as you grind your palm up against her.

You murmur her name against her ear, peppering the skin there with kisses as you splay your hand out across her back.

She’s close. You can hear it in her breathing as it hits her, that hitch right before she clenches hard around you and all but collapses into your chest. Each jerky thrust of her hips only further signifies her release as she rides it through.

It hits her hard. Not loudly, but intensely.

“Fuck,” Jackie breathes into your shoulder, shuddering on your lap as she clutches at you. You slip your fingers out gently to a sound of protest, squeezing her hip as Jackie pulls herself closer. 

She feels so comfortable in your lap, so warm and content, that you don’t ever want her to leave. Dangerous feelings to have about your boss, but ones that feel more undeniable the longer she remains curled up on top of you.

…

It’s thirty minutes into what Jackie described as a quote, quick, five minutes—really, you should’ve known better than to trust her when you had her calendar right there—that you feel a hand on your thigh. Her hand had slipped beneath the table ten minutes ago, but it’s the first time that it’s made itself known since then.

You stiffen in your seat, gripping your pen tighter as you slowly resume taking notes. There’s a line through the last sentence you wrote, a result of you jerking your hand in surprise, that you already dread having to copy over later. That was, presumably, the reason she dragged you along to this meeting in the first place. You’re starting to suspect she has ulterior motives for the whole thing.

She sneaks a peek at you as she rests her head on her hand, a carefully bored expression betrayed only by the way her lips twitch into something of a smile when she catches you staring back. Her hand slides up higher now that she can watch the journey your face goes through as you try to hide it. You can feel the blush crawling up your neck as you stare down at the notepad.

Jackie squeezes once, her touch lightening up for a moment before you nudge her leg with your knee. It only emboldens her.

You’re afraid of being pulled into HR later, but the way that the woman from HR is very carefully avoiding looking at either of you negates that possibility in your mind. You wonder what Jackie must have on her, considering how much joy Misty always takes in handing out violations and pulling people into her office.

The thought of Jackie blackmailing the HR lady has you squirming in your seat for an entirely different reason. It makes sense that your boss must have screwed over a lot of people to get where she is now, but you’ve never really thought about it all that much. Then, you think of your friend that Jackie had fired for nothing more than overhearing the two of you gossiping about your date. Gone like that with nothing more than a snap of her carefully manicured fingers.

Jackie was never shy about lauding that power she has over you, over everyone in her office, but the thought of it extending outside of even that was delightful. She was a handful, wasn’t she? Speaking of a handful—

She squeezes your thigh suddenly, fingers higher than they were before. It’s rougher this time, nails digging into skin through the fabric of your slacks like she’s trying to bruise you. A punishment for zoning out when she so obviously wants your attention. It’s not like you can explain to her that you’re thinking about her anyway, so all you can do is take it as you try not to visibly react in the middle of the meeting.

That woman can have such a temper when she wants to. You aren’t about to stop her from taking it out on you.

Jackie leans in, lips almost pressed against your ear as she whispers, “Pay attention.”

“...Of course,” you say, feigning a helpful smile. It’s hard to act respectful to someone whose tongue was in your mouth on the car ride here. The little smirk on Jackie’s face tells you that she feels the same.

**

“Maybe we shouldn’t…” Jackie says, sounding unconvinced even as she speaks the words. Maybe you would believe her more if it wasn’t the third time she’s said it only to kiss you again

“Shut up,” you murmur, one hand on her chin as you stop her from looking away. “You wouldn’t have spent twenty minutes feeling me up in that meeting if you didn’t want it.”

Her grin is devilish as it breaks her look of innocence as she shrugs, pushing the door to her office shut behind you with one heeled foot as she wraps her arms tighter around your shoulders. “Can’t a girl add some spark to her relationship without wanting something?”

“This one can’t.”

She kisses you again, which is answer enough.

Everyone else on the floor was away at lunch, a fact Jackie had assured herself of after walking out of the elevator after your meeting. It had only taken one quick glance before she had pulled you down by the collar of your shirt into that first kiss, and it had only escalated from there. 

You’re dimly aware there are cameras around the floor even if not in her office, a fact she had slyly mentioned to you a few days prior, but Jackie doesn’t seem to mind that she’s potentially giving security a hell of a show. Knowing her, she probably found a way for the cameras to mysteriously be down before you even left the meeting.

“Eager,” she accuses breathlessly as the two of you stumble into her office until the backs of her thighs hit her desk. Jackie starts to lift herself up onto it, already an idea formed in her head about what you’ll be doing.

You surprise her, for once, pulling her close and then spinning her around with hands on her hips. There’s not even an ounce of hesitation in her as she lets you lead her, laughing in startled delight as she braces her palms against the wood, her chest pressing flat against the surface as she wiggles her hips back into you.

You have to slap her hands away as she reaches behind her for the zipper of her skirt, briefly devolving into a little spat as she twists her head back to glare at you before you grab it yourself to pull it off of her.

She mutters something under her breath as her fingers grip the edge of her desk hard enough for her knuckles to whiten, spreading her legs wider as she’s freed from her tight skirt. You pull her panties off next, already soaked from a combination of her toying with you in the meeting and the fooling around on the way here. These you don’t carefully fold up like you did her skirt, instead surreptitiously slipping them into your pocket for later.

Jackie, utterly unaware of what's going on behind her, arches herself higher without a thought of shame in a silent reminder that she was still here. As if you could forget with the way she looks bent over her desk. You pop her on the ass, barely hard enough to sting but enough for Jackie to make an affronted noise and try to push herself up onto her elbows.

That you stop quickly. One hand pressing down between her shoulder blades is enough to make her go prone again, squirming beneath the touch until you slip a hand between her legs. You couldn’t resist the urge, not with her bent over like that in front of you. She was practically asking for it. Besides, she’s easy to make things up to.

“You're so wet,” you say, sighing as you make contact. You don't touch her where she wants immediately, and she's not a fan of it. Too used to demanding to be made to ask for it. There was time yet for her to learn. “Feel so good.” 

“You're fired,” she insists. 

You drag a fingertip through her, dipping inside to collect her wetness as you bring a finger up to her clit. Just a line, back and forth, over and over. Not enough to rub her off like she's so clearly aiming for as she tries in vain to move back against your hand, but enough to work her up. 

“Are you going to update my job description when you hire the next one?”

Before she can answer, you start to circle your finger around her clit, firmer now and enough for her to lose her train of thought. 

“Do—don't,” she breaks into a whine, “say that. I've just got you house-trained.” 

“You act like I'm a dog.” 

Jackie doesn't say anything. 

“Jackie.” It's meant to sound chiding, but it comes out far too affectionate to achieve that. 

Taking advantage of your moment of weakness, Jackie grips the desk for leverage as she grinds back against your hand. A silent plea for your fingers that you're happy to indulge her in. 

Fingertips slide back, teasing Jackie before sliding right in. She moans, hips jerking backward to take them deeper. 

“Fuck me,” Jackie says—no, demands—as she clenches tight around them. She takes them easily, like she always does. It feels like she was made for it, as sappy as it sounds. 

“So pretty,” you say, and Jackie shudders against the desk. “Yeah? You want to hear—”

“Don't,” she interrupts, aiming for stern and falling short by a mile, “let it go to your head.” 

“Of course, Ms. Taylor,” you say. 

“Touch me.” A demand. Always a demand. Has she ever asked you for anything?

Would you want her to? 

“I am.”

“You know what I mean,” Jackie insists. 

You reluctantly removed your hand from her shoulder blades to rub her clit, an action that's immediately followed by Jackie propping herself up on her elbows to fuck herself back on your fingers. You suspect that might have been the whole point. 

She was too smart for her own good sometimes, but not this time. Not with the way she moans as she buries her face into her arms, doing her best to get herself off with what little leverage she has. The muscles in her thighs tremble, exertion or pleasure you're not sure, but her heels only seem to further showcase her legs. 

It doesn't take long after that, not with the two of you working together to get her off. She's nearly silent as she comes, a fact that has less to do with your performance and more to do with how she's bitten her arm. Nearly silent, because even that can't completely silence a noise you're sure would echo down the hallways. 

She's come hard this time, maybe harder than you've seen her yet. Something about feeling you up in that meeting really got to her, or maybe it was just doing it in her office for the first time. You look around her office as you aimlessly rub the outside of her thigh as she breathes heavily into the desk and decide that must be it. 

Jackie looks pleased as she finally stands, grabbing onto your shoulder as she straightens out. It's not so much a smile that gives her away, not in her office of all places, but the lack of the stress she was wearing in the elevator ride up. 

“That's going on your performance review.” 

“To be a fly on the wall in HR when you submit that,” you say. 

“Maybe I'd leave that out,” she muses. “A raise, maybe.”

“A raise?” Your voice comes out higher than it should be, a little offended at the idea. Maybe you shouldn't be. It was so Jackie to try to reward you for good sex with more benefits to your job. Good behavior, good sex. What’s the difference? She was annoyingly efficient. “You're not paying me to—” 

“To what?” She gives you an expectant look, but not a single second to answer, let alone think. “Do you think you can tell me what I can and can't do?”

Oh.

You shake your head. 

“No,” she confirms, wrapping a hand loosely around your neck as she guides you to the other side of her desk. She keeps your head tilted toward a wall, ensuring you can't get a good look at her. “I want your mouth.”

“Oh—okay,” you agree. 

“And when you're done, you're going to go out there and write me an email about why you deserve a raise. It better be persuasive, ‘Kay?”

She squeezes your cheeks together in a way you're entirely too aware is unflattering, shaking you lightly back and forth before bringing her hand down across your cheek. Harder than last time, but still careful enough not to leave a lasting mark. Probably too aware of what people would think if you came back from your lunch break with a bruised face. 

You open your mouth as she presses her fingers against your lips, middle and ring fingertips rubbing against your tongue as you close your lips around them. Jackie hums pleasantly when you start to suck, tongue running along the outside of her fingers and then slipping between them. She just watches until she gets bored of it, smearing her spit-soaked fingers across the lower half of your face until she tires of that too. 

“Hold this.” Jackie lifts the end of your tie up to your mouth, nodding encouragingly as you hesitantly bite the end of it. You sink to your knees shortly after, a result of two unblemished hands pushing down on either shoulder. 

She sits back regally in her office chair with an ease you're almost jealous of. 

“Thanks,” she says as she gently pulls the tie free, almost immediately yanking you forward. Your hands grip her thighs, splayed out wide to support her as she scoots further down in her chair to throw a leg over your shoulder. 

“You look good on your knees. Should keep you there, don't you think?”

You gape up at her, searching for a reply that Jackie doesn't actually want to hear as she pulls you in. Just like that, you have a mouthful of Jackie Taylor's cunt. 

Jackie fists the tie around her hand, wrapped tightly as she holds you right where she wants you. One leg over your shoulders as you do less of eating her out and more of staying still while she fucks your face however she pleases. All you can do is flatten your tongue and let her use your mouth. 

“Just like that,” Jackie praises, rocking her hips to press more of her clit against your tongue. She's relentless, riding your face like you haven't already made her come today. You’re not sure you can ever get enough of her. Thankfully, the feeling is mutual.

It was hot. Hot, wet flesh rubbing against your tongue. Your lips. The way she smears herself across your face, mixing in with the spit left dripping from your open mouth. Wet, messy, and perfect. Right on her office chair—the place you've imagined having her for months.

Some rational part in the back of your mind hopes you haven't stained your clothes too badly before you have to go back out. 

You can't get any breaths around Jackie's thrusting, but that wasn't a problem. You took every breath she allowed you for what it was: a gift. 

Grateful. 

She likes you grateful. 

Jackie ruts mindlessly against your tongue, her heel digging into your back through your shirt as she tenses and gasps. You grab onto her thighs then, your mind finally catching up to you as you help work her through her orgasm now that she's a little too relaxed to do it herself. 

The lazy thrusts finally come to an end when she can't stand it anymore, letting go of your tie and absently tugging it looser just to watch the way you pant for air on your knees in front of her. She’s gentler now in the aftermath, not that she was ever that rough. But it was nice.

Jackie was something of a cuddler, you’ve noticed. It wasn’t something she could really indulge in at the moment, and given the hint of a pout gracing her lips, it seems to take a toll on her.

“Well?” Jackie says finally, patting a hand against your cheek patronizingly. She checks the time on her computer, starting to pull away now that she’s made the most she can of your lunch break. “Don't you have an email to write?”

Look. You take a lot of shit from Jackie. Most of the time it was hot, really hot. The kind of hot that makes you shift in your seat and count down the minutes until you can take care of it, one way or another. But this was a little too much, even for you. That Ms. Taylor thing can really go to her head. 

Jackie squeals as you yank her legs back apart, cursing under her breath as you dive back into her cunt. She doesn't protest, far from it, as she grabs a fistful of your hair and squirms beneath your tongue. You have to make an effort to hold her down now, to keep her from pulling away entirely. She's far too sensitive for such direct attention, but the fact that she can barely stand it is part of what makes it so good. 

It's so good it brings tears to her eyes, silent ones that trail down her face and past wide-open lips as she cries out. 

**

“I’m just gonna go wash up,” you say, lips brushing against her knee before pressing a departing kiss against it.

Jackie nods wearily, still catching her breath as she slumps back into her chair. You can hear her quiet breathing as she lets her eyes slip shut as you leave, carefully shutting the door behind you even though there’s no one outside her office.

By the time you get back from the bathroom, most of your colleagues have returned from lunch, and you slip in perfectly fine with the crowd. Not that it would’ve been suspicious that you’d worked through lunch with how hard Jackie always drives you. 

Speaking of Jackie, her office door has been propped back open like normal to maintain that open-door policy she always likes to go on about. Her face is carefully flushed as you peer in, letting her know you’ve returned from lunch like you always do. Jackie’s legs are crossed tightly beneath her desk as she gives you a look that’s just the right amount of panicked. 

You pat the left pocket of your slacks meaningfully, grinning as she pales slightly at the gesture. She presses her legs tighter together, squirming in her seat. You slip your hand in your pocket as you walk back to your desk, carefully fingering the lace of her panties.

[shaunamilfman]

it's kinda late and i'm very tired and i've actually never sent any asks ever before but i just read "i almost do" and i just had to quickly say that it was so so good, i love the way you write and how well you show the characters' thoughts and inner turmoils. it's great.

(went anonymous cuz i'm feeling shy, and no need to answer to my ask at all, just wanted to let you know)

thank you! very nice of you to say. I don't think I've ever posted anything on here from a character pov before so I was kind of experimenting with that so I'm glad you liked it

[shaunamilfman]

oooh was wondering if you had any WIP? I absolutely adore your writing 💗

yeah! just got back into writing recently after my hiatus but I'm writing a fic I keep referring to as "mean femme power bottom age gap Jackie" to my friend based on this jackieshauna fanart I saw recently. Jackie x masc r of courseee.

then the jackieshauna scream au sequel I mentioned but that's gonna be like 8ish parts again so don't expect that one to start coming out soonish