Sooo,,, anyone else want a canon divergent au where Shane is just a liiiitle bit more anxious about getting caught than he is overwhelmed by lust in the shower scene (but, to be clear: he still wants it sososo bad) and Ilya picks up on Shane feeling torn sOoo he kinda sorta maybe implies that if Shane doesn't put out,,, well,,, who knows who he might tell about Shane's little shower problem,,,(to be clear, Ilya is bluffing, he would obviously never out Shane, but SHANE needs the fiction of Ilya 'forcing his hand' so he doesn't actually have to acknowledge how desperately he wants all this. This then leads to the entire tone of hollanovs situationship being defined by this veneer of like "OOoh I HAVE to do whatever Rozanov says and let him have his wicked way with me or else my career will be ruined, I'm totally guiltless in this scenario~"). Anyone else want the blackmail au? No? Just me?
i'm soo obsessed with the blackmail/group chat thing,, part 4??:) maybe where victoria finds out about how cassie has been sending her videos and she can't help but be turned on by it..
part 4 babey!!!! this one has been sitting in my drafts for a hot second, weirdly enough the smut itself came easily but the text chat took a bit of tweaking around. also i thought of an awesome cliffhanger and showed so much restraint by saving it for later..........
mdni; cws for. um. the whole thing. manipulation/blackmail/threats/ignoring hard limits (choking)/etc. a little hint of mcshimi as a treat
part one | part two | part three | part four (you are here!)
victoria watches cassie as she stands up, puts her phone face up on the couch and heads to the bathroom. her eyes flick from her phone to cassie, and then back to her phone when she realizes it’s unlocked.
she’s not stupid, she knows there’s no point in trying to delete the videos of her— there’s not a world in which cassie doesn’t have more copies of it somewhere— but there’s a couple things she needs to check all the same.
with a shaky thumb she scrolls until she finds cassie’s messenger app, bracing herself for something she knows deep down is true. she taps on the top conversation and is somehow completely shocked at what she sees.
there are pictures and videos of her, yes, but she’s not the only one. she sees flashes of trinity and an overwhelming amount of emma, sometimes alone and sometimes together.
fuck. she hears the sound of running water and quickly exits out of the app, doing her best to put the phone exactly where she’d found it.
she tries to act normal when cassie comes back. she smiles when she needs to and only speaks when she’s spoken to. by the end of the night, cassie’s seemingly none the wiser as she’s putting the younger woman to bed.
that is until cassie slithers a hand around victoria’s throat and squeezes it hard. “you’re not gonna tell baran’s puppy or dana’s little girl what you saw, right?”
victoria whimpers as she feels herself grow more and more lightheaded, the tips of her fingers starting to tingle. she nods as tears start to sting at her eyes. “i won’t…” she rasps through a sob as she loses her peripheral vision.
cassie studies her face for a moment before finally letting go, watching the younger woman completely collapse onto her bed.
“good girl. sleep well, my love.”
and then victoria’s alone. and fuck, she wishes that all of her anger and betrayal isn’t toned with so much arousal. it had been hot before, and she’s just started coming to terms with that, but now that she knows trinity and emma are involved too? and they have no idea. letting their dommes pose them all pretty and whispering that of course baby, no one but me will see these.
why does that just make it hotter?
victoria’s sick. truly fucked in the head, only slightly better than cassie at this point. of course she wants to tell one of them. she’s not sure she’ll be able to look either of them in the eye tomorrow, especially not after her hand trails down her stomach and she feels how fucking soaked she is.
it's by far her most shameful orgasm, and yet also the strongest one she can remember having.
shit. cassie's ruined her.
once cassie stops hearing soft moans and whines behind victoria's door, the older woman heads to bed and gets herself comfortable, sighing in content as she opens her favorite group chat.
Cassie: hook line and sinker babeeyyyy
Baran: Do I even want to know?
Cassie: remember that idea you had the other night when you finally let us get you drunk?
Baran: 1. I don't think I remember anything from that night and 2. this is exactly why I never let you see me drink.
Cassie: boooooo. BOOOOOOOOOO.
Dana: I see you drink all the time
Cassie: WOOWWWWW HASHIMI WOOOWWWW THE SECRET COMES OUT
Baran: Trinity's asleep, and I would like to join her before dawn breaks. What nightmare have you put your poor girlfriend through this time?
Cassie: vadi officially knows about us!
Baran: ... She knows we all fuck, Cassie. I think that's the whole point.
Cassie: you make me so fucking mad sometimes
vic knows about our groupchat*
Baran: And I came up with this idea?
Dana: Yup. You get real "creative" when you drink enough.
Baran: Stop
Cassie: like sometimes i genuinely have to sit and think if i need to call cps for trinity
Baran: At least Trinity didn't just turn twenty-one.
Cassie: awwwwhhh cmonn i know that's one of your favorite parts ;)
Dana: [five images of emma asleep in her lap attached]
Cassie: Thanks Dana
Baran: Awesome photos, Dana.
Cassie: ANNYYYWAAAYYYSS i could hear vic fingering herself as soon as i left. and she sounded WET
Baran: Isn't this a big risk? What if she tells Trinity, or Emma?
Cassie: 1. this was your idea and twwoooooo trust me she won't be telling anyone anything ;)
Dana: You text like a serial killer, McKay.
Baran: Haha.
Cassie: I didn't mean it like that!!!!!
Baran: Genuinely curious, how are you so sure? Victoria's smart.
Dana: To quote your own words, it had something to do with Victoria's quote "fucking insane mommy kink" and that she secretly wants "an actual mom to treat her right", so when Cassie barks a command Vic always answers.
Cassie: and then you spent the next 30 minutes talking about how you really want to feel everything you've done to trinity and that you'd let me domme you anytime i want.
Baran: I absolutely did not say that.
Dana: [attached voice note of baran saying that very thing]
Baran: ...
Baran has left the conversation
Cassie has added Baran to the conversation
Baran has left the conversation
Dana has added Baran to the conversation
Baran: I'm in hell.
Dana: Then we're all fucked. If any of us had a shot at heaven it was you.
Cassie: let's not go THAT far
Baran: We got off track again. Do you really think Victoria will stay quiet?
Cassie: oh yeah. i bet i can get her to like it as much as we do. i think she's already pretty damn close actually
Dana: [two pictures of emma attached] Have you ever seen anything so cute? She's holding onto me like she's a fucking koala
Cassie: Cute! I need to take more sleeping shots of vadi
Baran: Awww
Baran liked two images
Cassie: if you're really worried we could pay her a visit, all three of us. leave trinity and emma at home so we can really... drive the message home if you know what i mean :)
Baran: Jesus. You really do talk like a murderer.
Cassie: stop being a smartass and answer me
Dana: I do love seeing Victoria cry.
Baran: As do I... She really is quite gorgeous, Cassie. Tomorrow? The usual time?
Cassie: sounds like a plan. maybe if you ask nicely i'll let you call me mommy too ;)
Baran has left the conversation
Dana: We're overpowering her and fucking the living daylights out of her one of these days, right?
Cassie has added Baran to the conversation
Cassie: oh for sure
Baran: I'm going to bed. Goodnight you two.
Dana: Sleep well dollface
Cassie: only you could say dollface and get away with it in the year of our lord 2026
Dana: [one selfie of herself with a sleeping emma attached]
Jaune and Pyrrha are dating but after one eventful evening, someone took a picture of them into a "intimate" situation, ofcourse thats one of the girls, (RWBY, CEMN, or anyone else, just not cardin, jaune would kill him) Pyrrha would probably be shamed on international tv but she didnt care aboiut that, she was worried for Jaune as he most likely would be kicked out of Beacon.
Of course she has to give in to their demands, to fuck jaune, she really couldnt refuse, and neither could he, so now she is a cuckqueen as her boyfriend is sexually violated by as many other girls (or enemy, that she has)
Whats worst? She starting to enjoy it despite really not wanting to admit it as she watched her boyfriend, break once more
If anyone is interested in some smut I made a new little one shot~
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Off Limits (3493 words) by Maelstrome
Relationships: Sun (Five Nights at Freddy's)/Reader, Sun (Five Nights at Freddy's) & Reader
Additional Tags: Smut, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Voyeurism, Accidental Voyeurism, Extremely Dubious Consent, Dubious Consent, Sun has a Dick, AFAB reader - Freeform, No use of yn, Exhibitionism, robot human relations, Blackmail, Nameless Security Guard, Fazbear being terrible, Threats, No verbal consent, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
"Travel the stars with us," the Precursors said, "Become one of us."
"I will," answered the hero, "but only on one condition: in the next iteration of this endless cycle, let the child have his family. Let at least one iteration of us know his father."
"If we allow this," said the Precursors, "you will still be the chosen hero. You will still hold the blood of Mar. And you will still suffer. But for one lifetime, we will let the child be a separate person, in exchange for your service in this lifetime."
"Then it is agreed," said the hero, and so the wheel of time turned, changing direction ever so slightly.
Part One: The Bargain
"Ah, there he is, right on schedule." Krew chortled as Jak slipped through the pub door.
There were a lot of people at the bar, all Wastelanders. Tess shot a worried look at Jak, but kept her bubbly smile up. What was going on? Were these friends of Sig’s? Jak wasn't so sure, considering the concerned grimace Sig was sporting.
One of the newcomers, a broad, scarred man with a drooping mustache, stood up and approached Jak slowly.
"Yep," he drawled, circling the boys, "Nipper's got the eyes alright. Same jaw, too." He snorted. "Heh. And here I was afraid you was losin' your touch, Krew. Right. We'll take 'im."
"Excuse me?" Daxter sputtered.
"Sorry, Jak," Krew said without the slightest shred of sincerity, "But after that little racing stunt of yours, I had to do some thinking. I've got a lot of money riding on Errol winning that final race. I'm afraid you've just become too expensive to keep on. No hard feelings, eh? It's just business."
"Ok?" Jak eyed the Wastelanders suspiciously. "And that's supposed to keep me from racing because...?"
"Because you're under new management, shall we say." Krew gestured to the Wastelanders. "Don't think of it as being fired! Think of it as a transfer of sorts."
Daxter bristled. "You wanna run that by us again, Morning Breath?"
Instead, the Wastelander turned on his heel to face Krew. "Now, you an' me, we both know you're askin' too high for the state the brat's in. Come on, Krew, you ain't fed him this whole time?"
Jak went rigid and began to back towards the door. Whatever was happening here, he wanted no part of it.
"Well it's wholly up to your lord's discretion, of course," Krew said, oily smooth, "If you can't come up with the price, I'm sure the Baron would pay fairly for a soldier of Jak's caliber."
One of the women at the bar laughed meanly. "Lordship said you might say that. He also said to remind you that you could do that, but only if you feel like being hanged with your own entrails."
Krew fanned himself and hovered higher. "Oh dear me, that sounds like bad blood, doesn't it? Speaking of blood, you'd best get moving if you don't want to lose the boy, there. I'm not responsible for losses incurred during pickup."
Jak had barely gotten out the door before they were on him. Someone grabbed Daxter from his shoulder, and four more sets of hands pinned his arms. These weren't weak, exhausted Havenites. Or indolent KG looking for excitement. These were real Wastelanders, and they were more than a match for Jak's struggles.
"Let him go, rot you!" he snarled, lunging for the woman holding Daxter by the scruff, "Get your hands off him!"
"Easy, boy, easy." The woman took a step back. "Just gonna hang onto Shorty here as insurance."
Sig finally managed to push his way through the crowd and elbowed one of Jak's captors in the gut, hard. As the man doubled over, Sig ripped his hands off of Jak's arm.
"Hands off my rookies," he hissed.
"Sig, w- what- what- what-" Jak could barely speak. Rage and terror constricted his lungs, his throat.
"I don't know, cherry." Sig shook his head grimly. "But I'm gonna find out. No matter what happens, you stick close to me and do as I do, okay? We're gonna get you through this."
Then he shoved the rest of the Wastelanders away, one by one. They parted like wheat before the wind, like they knew Sig. Like they respected him. The second he was free, Jak had to lock his knees to keep from collapsing. He couldn't even bring himself to be angry that they could all see him trembling uncontrollably. Krew had sold him to Wastelanders like a piece of meat. Like a slave. What would happen to the search for the Tomb if he was imprisoned in the Wastes? Would The Shadow force the Kid to search in Jak’s stead? He wouldn't put it past him, not after the jobs they'd sent him to do.
"Oh, I do so love facilitating family reunions!" Krew cooed, hovering at the door, "It warms the heart! And me wallet!"
He waggled his fingers meaningfully and cast greedy eyes over a trunk the one called Kleiver kicked in his direction.
"Mmyes, tell your liege lord I'll keep me eyes peeled for the smaller brat, eh?"
Jak's already chilled blood froze. He lunged for Krew, barely restrained by Sig at the last second.
"Don't touch him!" he growled, "Don't you even look at him! I'll kill you! I'll rotting kill you!"
Jak didn't see the Wastelanders around him, even Sig, suddenly exchange extremely grim looks. But when Sig tugged him away from the bar and towards the waterfront, he knew something had changed.
"Quiet, cherry," Sig hissed in his ear. "You're gonna have the Guard down on us with that yelling, and I don't want to give Krew any ideas about collecting that bounty on you!"
They had to physically drag him into the air train, and even that was only possible because the woman holding Daxter captive went in first. Cursing Sig every step, Jak struggled in vain to get his arms free.
"Jak!" Sig finally exploded, "Knock it off! We're trying to save your ass, here!"
"I didn't ask for your help!" Jak aimed a kick behind him and met hard metal armor. Memories of the prison clawed at the edge of his mind, threatening to pull him back into a dark place.
"You have no right-! You can't buy- you- you-"
His breathing became rapid and labored. "I am not a thing!" he screamed, finally breaking free.
Seconds too late. The hatch was closed.
"Jak! Jak, look at me, kiddo, look at me!" Sig desperately tried to grab his arm.
"I don't know what's going on, you gotta believe me. But I know Krew wasn't joking about selling you to Praxis, and I'd die before I let that bastard get his hands on you again."
Kleiver curled his lip at them from across the hold. "Paid a ransom that coulda fed a garrison for a month and this is the thanks we get? Ungrateful brat is what you are."
Sig glared at him. "Ransom?! You walked in there talking like an auction! Who's ransoming Jak?"
The woman holding Daxter spoke up.
"Lord Damas wants him. Krew contacted him, month back. Said he had proof the Heir of Mar abandoned a bastard son during the coup and if nobody came forward to "take responsibility", he'd out him to Praxis."
Jak went very, very still. Was Krew using him to defraud someone? Wouldn't be out of character. But where had he gotten the idea to pass Jak off as the lost Heir? And did that mean little Mar was abandoned? If he was, Jak knew he was going to make this so-called lord in question pay in blood for it.
"Jak? Bull. Damas lost the baby in the coup. He didn't abandon him." Sig snapped.
"Not on purpose, at least," Kleiver snorted. “If you was carryin’ a deposed king’s brat during a hostile takeover, would you say anything?”
Sig tightened his jaw and said nothing.
Jak didn't know how long they were in the air train. He'd blocked everything out. The Wastelanders, Sig, even Daxter. He'd shut them out and retreated into the one corner of his mind where the darkness couldn't touch him. The place where he remembered the sound of the ocean, and warm waves against his ankles. He was free there, and they couldn't take the sea from him.
When they landed, he didn't even notice until a blinding light pierced the hold-
Along with the smell of salt air.
Jak raised his head slowly, squinting through hanks of hair into the light. His free place in his mind didn't have the smell of the sea. Why did he smell salt?
"Everybody out!" Kleiver bellowed, "You know I don't like monks, so let's get this over with, yeah?"
Sig wrapped an arm around Jak’s shoulders and pulled him to his feet. "Stay close, kids," he murmured, and Jak finally realized that now he had Daxter. "I...don't know what to tell you. But I'm gonna do whatever I can to keep you two safe, okay?"
They exited onto a spire of rock, high above what seemed like an endless stretch of desert on one side, and a turbulent sea on the other. A Precursor temple sat before them, surrounded by ruined columns and porticos. Three zoomer-like vehicles were parked near a tiny natural waterfall, which seemed to mean something to the Wastelanders.
"Welp. He's already here." The woman in the yellow turban sighed. "Fingers crossed this checks out, everybody."
She waved to Sig.
"Get him inside before noon, huh? I don't feel like losing a layer of skin to the sun, thanks."
It was nearly ten degrees colder inside the temple. Personally, Daxter thought the weird people dressed in rubber emanated half the chill themselves. One of them approached Sig, holding a small plastic cup. Their eyes flicked to Jak, and they held out the cup with a bored expression.
"Blood or saliva sample," they said flatly.
Jak balked. "What?"
Sig cringed. "They want to...to see if you're who Krew claimed you are. Just...spit in the cup, kid. Their computer will tell them if Krew was lying or not."
When it became clear that the monk wasn’t going to leave until they got what they were after, Jak begrudgingly spat into the cup. The monk exited the chamber without a word.
Jak spent the next three hours huddled in an alcove, behind a small Precursor statue. He clung to Daxter like a lifeline, glaring out at the monks and Wastelanders watching him and whispering amongst themselves. Any time one came close, Jak scooted further back into the cloister. None of them looked small enough to get around the statue at the mouth. They couldn't reach him here.
One man in particular wouldn't stop staring at them. He had a commanding presence, despite not being the tallest or broadest in the room. Scars decorated his face and arms, and sharp points of Precursor metal had been set into his skull. Which was admittedly kind of badass. He watched Jak with dark, piercing eyes and a hard set to his jaw. When a monk placidly paced forward and presented the man with a datapad, murmuring, "Positive match, sire," the man's eyes darkened further.
He turned on his heel and disappeared through a door.
"Sire?"
"I'm going to pray," the man snapped in a rough voice. "Leave me. And get the boy some water, for the gods' sake!"
Was that the man who had supposedly paid a ransom for him? Jak retreated into the very back of the cloister and buried his face in Daxter's fur.
"Rot this day. Rot this whole rotting week," he mumbled.
"You said it, pal." Dax wrapped his arms around Jak’s neck and tried to comfort him. "Hey, they made me spit in a cup too! You think their computer will tell them I'm an ottsel? Or a human?"
Jak blinked. "Uh....how smart are computers supposed to be?"
"Like. As smart as Vin, I think?"
Jak shrugged, grateful for the distraction. "Maybe. That'll freak ‘em out, huh?"
"Oh yeah. So what do you think is up with Spikes? Wrong answers only."
"Wrong only? Uh...he just found out he's part marmoset."
"Or his application for a piercing refund was rejected."
"Or," Sig interrupted flatly, "he just found out he had a kid he didn't know was alive, and he's dealing with a lot of guilt right now."
Sig crouched at the mouth of the cloister and looked in at them. He seemed to have aged years since that morning. He held out a hand and sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
"Come on out kiddo. We're gonna get you some food, some-"
He closed his eye and shook his head. "Volcan's bones. I...I didn't know- none of us did...gods, he must've snatched you the same year we lost Mar-"
"Mar?" Jak interrupted sharply, "What do you know about Mar?"
When Sig looked up again, Jak was shaken to see tears in his eye.
"I ain't talking about the founder of Haven, cherry. And I don't think you are, either."
He sniffed and cleared his throat. "Little thing. So...he's so- he was so small. Sweetest little kid you ever met, always getting into trouble."
He cleared his throat again and tapped his cybernetic eye. "Only takes a moment. You look away one minute. Not even one full minute. And that's all it takes for the world to end. Praxis sympathizers ambushed us. Shot out my eye and took- took Mar. We never saw him again. But...but I think you did."
Jak's stomach churned, and the world began to spin. Mar? The little boy he'd been so desperate to protect? This had to be some kind of trick, they were trying to trick him into giving up Mar's location so they could get to the Tomb. Daxter's claws dug into his arm, pulling him back to earth before the dark eco could take over.
"I have to go back-" Jak croaked, "You have to take me back- take me back! Take me back! I can't leave him alone!"
Sig shifted and looked up at someone just out of sight.
"I was right," he said heavily, "He knows something."
I just read your cheating ficlet (fuckin hot 🥵) and noticed Lexa wore lacy black panties even though it seemed like she didn't want to go through with Clarke's blackmail. Was there a small part of her hoping Clarke would fuck her so she wants to look sexy for her?
Lexa would never in a million years admit to that.
But in reality? She's bored in her relationship, the sex is bad, and Costia is never home. When she is, she treats Lexa like a doormat, and Lexa is sick of it. She was trying to rekindle the spark with the nude pic, but when she accidentally sends it to Clarke...
Clarke is infuriating. She challenges Lexa at work, constantly trying to compete with her on projects, and now for this promotion that Lexa clearly deserves more.
It doesn't help that she's fucking hot, blonde hair and blue eyes, killer rack and an attitude. Lexa’s kryptonite.
She may not have been thinking about it at the time, but a part of her was secretly hoping Clarke would do exactly what she did.
He’d been sitting in the parking lot for ten minutes, and he couldn’t get out of the car. His body was frozen with panic as he looked at the reporters milling about outside the entrance to the paddock at the far end of the car park. His body tense and terrified, and Lance hated it.
Sharing the first part of this here because I don’t have self-control, but I’m holding back from posting on AO3 until I’m ready to write it steadily. Onto the info/warnings.
I don’t have a summary, sorry to tell you. But I’ve got tags, which will probably give you a pretty good idea of what this story is about.
Tags: blackmail, co-workers, D/s elements, dub-con leaning more toward non-con depending how you feel about blackmail, degradation, humiliation. Most of these come out later on, but there’s a blanket warning.
Now onto the dirty stuff. Admittedly, there is no real smut in the first part, but there is so much sexual tension. It’s about 3k so it’s under the line. It hasn’t been edited, so sorry for the typos.
I would super love to hear what you think, whether that’s on the post, in my messages, or ask box!
At approximately ten past one o’clock, the door to her office swung open. Hermione didn’t raise her head when the handle twisted, when the door knocked against the wall a fraction too loud. Instead, she gestured to the corner of her desk, the only free space and not by much.
“Please leave it in the basket.”
“Do you always speak to the couriers so rudely?” The shadow fell over her desk, and Hermione grimaced before looking up. Tom Riddle peered down at her in the annoyingly irritating way only he had. As though he was sizing her up while simultaneously believing there was nothing to observe. “No need to answer. I’ve sat across from you in enough board meetings to know.”
Placing her quill back into the stand beside a newly opened jar of ink, Hermione folded her arms and gave no reaction. “Ha. How can I help you? Have you gotten lost? Your office is another two floors down, although your desire to be in the DMLE must have brought you here anyway. I hear Harry will be looking for a new secretary soon. Perhaps you’d be a good fit?”
Riddle narrowed his eyes, and his fingers clenched the parcels so roughly that they crinkled in his grip. “The funniest thing happened this morning. Somehow, your mail was delivered to me by mistake. A new courier,” he lamented. “I’m sure you can understand how easy it is to get turned around.” He was enjoying himself entirely too much.
And the slow grin stretching his lips couldn’t mean anything good. Immediately, Hermione’s stomach dropped and her palms grew sweaty. She leaned back in her chair, and rubbed them against her jeans beneath the desk. As she did, she felt his eyes follow the movement.
His lip curled at the sight of her muggle clothes. Riddle had always hated the casual attire that came with Saturdays, when dress code was lax.
“And you’ve come to return it to me, how kind of you.” She reached for them, but he lifted them higher until they would be out of her grasp even if she stood. “Hand over my mail, Riddle. I have work to finish and I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible.”
“I thought you lived at work.” There was an edge to his voice then. “Haven’t you fallen asleep in your office several times now? All Hermione Granger does is eat, sleep, and breathe her work.”
If she ever got her hands on her mail, she was going to smack him with the largest parcel. “Have you been watching me? Perhaps you’re a bit jealous that you were passed over for the position.” That did it.
His eyes sparked, and he slammed a hand down at the edge of her desk. Papers scattered, but she snorted at the vicious glint that had taken over his eyes. “You are undoubtedly the rudest witch to work in the Ministry. What are you rushing to get out of here for, Granger?”
Tom Riddle has called her by her surname since they were first years, and the timeless rivalry between their houses had snapped into place, never wavering. When they were fellow Heads, he had called her by her first name one time, and one time only. There had been liquor involved, and him holding her up while helping her back to the shared common room while hissing that this didn’t make them friends.
She hadn’t needed the reminder. Thing was, this memory was years in the past now and there was no sense in it now. The look on his face reminded her of it though. Crystal clear, as though it had happened last week.
“I’m meeting Harry and Ron.” Hermione waited for him to roll his eyes, but he didn’t. The grin he gave was all the more terrifying. So much that she felt it in her bones, the sense of dread that put her upside down. “We have plans for dinner, and I’d like to get this done. So, if you could just…”
He waved his hand and the door to her office swung shut. The lock turned into place, and the sound of it rattled through the room. “I’m afraid your they’ll have to wait a little longer.” Finally, he hands over a few of the parcels, save for one. His knuckles have turned white from his grip on it. And then Hermione saw that the top of it had been ripped open.
“Did you open my mail?” She shot out of her seat, now regretting that she’d kicked her shoes off the second she got in. Now if she rounded the desk to yell at him from an even closer distance—and it was tempting—he’d only laugh at her. “Riddle, that’s—”
“There was no name on it.” Riddle said slowly, and there was no missing that slow chuckle under his breath. “I had no idea who it was meant for, so of course I opened it. How else would I figure it out?”
“Fine,” slipped through gritted teeth. “Just hand it over and get out.”
Riddle shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. You see, I don’t think this” –he waves the heavy envelope— “was meant for you. It certainly concerns you, but it seems to me that someone is trying to ruin you.”
Her brows shot up, nearly taking a new home in her hairline. “Spare me the bloody dramatics, and give me my mail.”
He didn’t hand it over, but he pulled the contents from inside and let them fly across her desk.
A knot formed in her stomach, tying itself over and over again. They were all photos of herself in various states of undress—some of them showed her completely nude—and she recognized the hands on her in some as her Viktor’s. He must have kept them after they had broken up. “What the fuck—” Hermione began, but she struggled to take a proper breath. “You’ll hand these over immediately, Riddle.”
He clicked his tongue. “I think I’ll pass, actually.”
“Would you rather be arrested?” Hermione all but snarled it. She’d set them on fire, if it weren’t for the parchment under them. They’d catch fire just as well, but perhaps it would be worth it. A final resort, if Riddle didn’t come to his senses.
Gone was his former irritation, and all there was now was his amusement. He didn’t bother to hide it at all. “Unless you’d like for me to tell them how you blackmailed Cassius Parkinson into voting for your bill last summer…”
Her throat could have closed up with how she couldn’t breathe. I have no idea what you’re talking about. That was what she should have said, but it was nowhere near what fucking came out of her mouth. “How do you know about that?”
The photos were still staring up at her, and he was staring at them too much for her liking. She couldn’t recognize him anymore when he did, or that way his eyes darkened when they lingered. “I have quite a few acquaintances, Granger. His daughter was in our year, you must remember, and when Cassius is pissed, he likes to rant.”
“And I was his most recent topic.”
He shrugged. “A few weeks ago, you were. Now that I have not one, but two things I’m able to hold over that pretty little head of yours, I think you’ll be much more agreeable.”
Voices grew louder as footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, and Riddle came around her desk. Hermione took an involuntary step back, and hated the way he smiled when she did. “Why would you want that?”
He’d foregone his dress robes today, but she wished he hadn’t. The way his trousers fit him were even more distracting, and his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms. Riddle leaned forward, placing a hand on her desk—on the photo, over her bare breasts—and smiled like he knew exactly where his palm had landed. “You’re a quick study, Granger. I think you’ll figure it out.”
She thought she already had with he way he was staring at her. “Please, just let me take the photos. I’ll give you money, or—”
“I don’t want your money.”
Hermione swallowed. “Then what do you want?”
“Right now,” He shifted his stance, and lifted his hand so he could drag his fingertip across the photo. “I want you to tell me why you took these photos and what’s happening in them. You can manage that surely, hmm?”
Her heartbeat was uneven in her chest, to the point that it hurt, and she couldn’t think of a way out of this. “Have you made copies?” The pleading in her voice was very much real, but she knew the answer before he said it.
“Of course.” He lifted his other hand, and brushed her hair over her shoulder. “Now, you know what you’re meant to do, don’t you?”
Hermione would like to snap at him, to yell for the Aurors—which there was no shortage of on this floor. But the truth of what she’s done would be enough to earn her termination, and her achievement of earning deputy department head sooner than anyone else would cease to matter. Not only that, but the legislation it had helped her pass would be called into question.
And he knew it.
“It was for my ex boyfriend’s birthday.” Hermione whispered. “I posed for him on our bed while he photographed me, and charmed the camera when we—”
His finger slid against the base of her throat, warm and coaxing. “Then this was your idea?”
She nodded, and did not lean into him.
She. Did. Not.
“Tell me about this one. And do a good job of it.” The threat was unmistakably clear, and she wished that it didn’t effect her in the way it did.
Fear swirled in the pit of her stomach, sick and vicious, but that wasn’t all. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, not willing to look at the feeling any closer. “I’m going to get you back for this.” Her voice was ragged, too breathy, and not enough anger.
It didn’t go unnoticed. “I’m sure you will. I’m rather looking forward to it, but I’ve asked you a question. You don’t want to keep me waiting, do you?”
In the photograph he’d pointed out, it was nearly only of her save for the hand on her neck, and the fingers wrapped around her throat. She looked past Viktor’s arm, swallowing, and looked at herself for a moment. “We’re having sex.”
Riddle shook his head.
“He’s fucking me.” Hermione said unevenly. “It was the second time that night.”
“He’s choking you.” Riddle’s voice was low, but not soft, and he curled a finger under her chin to lift her head. When she tried to turn away, his grip tightened and he forced her to look at him. “Was that for him, or for you?”
“For me.” Hermione swallowed tightly, and he watched her. “He never liked it.”
He let go of her jaw, and his fingers drifted lower. Riddle’s knuckles brushed against the front of her throat, and she thought he might try to recreate that photo. “I’m not going to choke you.” His voice softened when she flinched. “Why didn’t he like it?”
Why did he want to know? What difference could it make? From the way this had started and continued on, there was clearly one thing he was after. “If your plan is to blackmail me for sex, you should just get it over with.”
“I can assure you that I have no intentions of simply getting it over with, Granger.”
Of course he would want to drag this out—to savor it for as long as he could. Surely there was something she could find on him so she could turn the tables. It would mean that they would be in a hopefully constant stalemate, but there was no doubt that Tom Riddle was the sort of man that would keep going until he regained the upper hand.
Where would that leave her?
The only option for now was to play along, and to pretend there wasn’t a thrill that came with it.
“Viktor thought it felt like abusing me. He rarely ever choked me.”
“That’s a shame. And what of this one?” He pointed to another photo, but by the time she dragged her eyes back to him, she found that he’d hardly looked away from her.
She was on her back, and it’s a terribly explicit photograph. Hermione’s skin was flush, soft. Her breasts are exposed, and she can see herself in the moment reaching a hand between her thighs.
Her legs were spread, and her head was over the edge of the bed.
“I’m sucking his cock.” Her hands curled into fists.
“It’s impressive.” There were his fingers again, dropping to her shoulder where he nudged her jumper to the side. “You’ve taken him all the way down your throat.”
Under his thumb was a terrifying place to be. “He told me to play with my cunt. Viktor wanted to see me come while I sucked him off.”
He toyed with the hair at the nape of her neck. “Did you come all over your fingers?”
Hermione bit her lip, hard. “I—yes.”
“You’re holding back.” Riddle murmured, and the room grew smaller. There were footsteps on the other side of the door, and anyone could hear them if she weren’t comfortable. If anyone were to unlock the door and come in, the photos— A small sound escaped her when he shifted their stance. He pinned her against her own desk, and he grabbed her by the jaw again. “Tell me.”
“I squirted.”
His breath came out hard, uneven, and she swallowed. For a moment, she hadn’t thought that she should be afraid and yet, she couldn’t drum up an ounce of fear. “Sweet fucking Circe.” Riddle was pressed against her, and she felt him against her lower stomach. “Would you like to know which of these is my favorite?”
No. Absolutely fucking not. You’re a disgusting pervert.
Any of them would have been acceptable. By playing along with this part of his game, she was only being complacent. A dangerous thing to be when he would notice it. Thing was, she desperately wanted to know. Her stomach had turned over on itself, and she knew that she was wet. Hermione did not rub her thighs together, no matter how badly she needed the friction. He would have felt it.
It made her wonder what he would have done if she had.
“Yes.”
The grin he gave her was one she’d never seen. He leaned into her, his chest pressing against hers, and picked up a photo from her desk. “It’s this one,” As he said it, Riddle pushed it into her hands.
Out of all of them, she wasn’t sure this was the one she would have guessed to be his favorite. Perhaps the one where she’s spread out across the bed, her head on the pillows with her legs spread. “This one?” Hermione echoed. “Why?”
She was on her knees, still completely bare, and she’d pressed her chest forward. Hermione’s head was tilted up, her lips slightly parted. It’s not a tame photo—nothing she would ever want anyone else to see—but it’s nowhere near as revealing as the others.
“I want you on your knees for me.” Riddle groaned under his breath. “I want you staring up at me just like this.” He cupped her face, and ran his thumb across her lower lip, then slid it forward.
Hermione took his thumb in her mouth, and swirled her tongue around it, hating how she’d done it.
“You’re going to be a perfect little slut for me, aren’t you?”
She whimpered.
“Oh, do you like that as well? Is that another thing he wouldn’t give you?”
It was, and Hermione nodded.
“What a fucking fool.” When he pulled his finger from her mouth, his fingers came to rest against her throat. He didn’t tighten them as he watched her. “I want to see you on your knees for me, wearing a collar while you take my cock down your throat.”
Hermione caved. She rubbed her thighs together, and gripped the edge of the desk until her knuckles turned white. “Riddle—”
“You’ll call me Tom from now on.” He cut her off.
“And if I don’t?” It sounded more like her.
He flexed his fingers. “I’m dying for you to act like a brat so I can punish you, Hermione.” Her name sounded too good on his tongue. “You’re going to be late.”
Hermione’s head spun. She’d blow off her plans with Harry and Ron. The first thing she needed to do was to get home because she was positively fucking aching.
Riddle gathered the photos, sliding them back into the parcel and left it in the middle of her desk. “I’ll see you soon, Granger.”
