#virgil_anon

[slitherinfest]

💚 compromising positions by virgil_anon

2,294 | Completed | E | Ship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort

Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Established Relationship, Minister for Magic Tom Riddle, Quidditch Seeker Harry Potter, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Porn With Plot, Explicit Sexual Content, Bottom Tom Riddle, Gratuitously Hot Harry Potter, Married Couple

Summary:

He was Tom Riddle! (He was Tom Potter) ((He was Lord Voldemort)) But Harry was Harry Potter, and he’d always thrown him off since the day they met.

[virgil-anon]

So I accidentally wrote two alternate endings to chapter eleven of memento mori so here's a different ending to the chapter because I want it somewhere:

That night, he slipped away and apparated to Tom’s manor. He landed in the foyer, and a moment later he was swept up in a hug. Harry returned the embrace, closing his eyes and breathing in Tom’s intoxicating smell.

They parted, Harry’s feet firmly back on the ground. Tom grabbed his hand, then pressed a gentle kiss on each Lordship ring; the Potter stag, and the Black coat of arms, each buzzing with their own power and magical signature. “You wear them well.”

Harry knew his face was on fire, but he ignored it. “Thank you.”

Tom smirked, conjoining their hands. “Of course. Happy birthday, darling.”

Harry leaned forward, their lips so close, yet too far away. “I think it’s time you showed me what I’ve been waiting for.”

Tom swallowed thickly. “Harry,” he warned, “once we start this I won’t be able to go back. Are you ready for that?”

“Yes,” Harry whispered, his hand tightening in Tom’s shirt. “I want this.”

“Good,” Tom murmured before darting forward, conjoining their mouths in a hot, wet kiss. Harry gasped for air as Tom pulled away, running a gentle hand down his cheek. “Because I never intend on letting you go.”

Harry grinned and surged forward, wrapping his arms around Tom’s neck and kissing him like it was his last night on this earth. Tongues mingled and thrusted, teeth sank flesh, and Harry couldn’t bloody breathe but he didn’t care; he just wanted to do this for the rest of his life.

Tom pulled away just long enough to apparate them both upstairs without splinching either of them. Harry let out a small omph when he landed on Tom’s bed. Tom crawled in after him, eyes dark and hungry. Harry grabbed him by his collar and yanked him down into another kiss.

Tom groaned into his mouth; all Harry could do was grin.

Harry waved his hand and vanished Tom’s clothes. He barely blinked and instead surged forward, holding Harry’s wrists down against the bed.

“That eager, aren’t we?” Tom murmured against his lips.

“Yes,” Harry panted, pressing their hips together. Tom groaned into their mouths, canting their hips together. Harry cried out, his cock hardening in his trousers.

Tom’s hand found his cock and firmly grabbed it. “All I have to do is touch you and you’re mine, right?”

“Yes,” Harry cried out. “And you’re mine.”

“I’m all yours,” Tom assured, then vanished his clothes as well, leaving them both naked. Harry’s hips grinded forward with a mind of their own, their cocks rubbing against each other. Harry groaned into Tom’s neck, and he heard similar moans from above.

“Please,” Harry whined. “I wanna fuck you, Tom.”

He pulled back slightly, then went pliant when Harry surged forward and flipped them. His hands slid down Tom’s body, all long bony limbs and cool skin, spreading his thighs before settling between them. He murmured a spell, his fingers slick with lubrication.

Tom watched, biting his bottom lip as Harry gently began scissoring him open. He groaned and let his head fall back onto the pillows. “Harry,” he breathed.

“Yes?” Harry asked, eyes finding his in a mere moment.

“You don’t have to handle me like I’m made of glass,” Tom said. “I won’t break.”

“I want to be gentle with you,” Harry replied, fingers slow and precise as they fingered him open. They brushed something deep inside him, a bundle of nerves that he tensed up when Harry’s slender fingers found their way there.

He gasped, back arching off the bed.

“See?” Harry said against his lips before he kissed him again. “Just like that.”

Tom had the audacity to smirk, grabbing Harry by the shoulder and dragging him back down to meet his mouth in a violent kiss. Tom’s other hand grabbed Harry’s wrist and pressed his fingers harder inside him, causing him to shudder and groan into their connected mouths. Harry kissed him back with his teeth, sinking them into Tom’s bottom lip.

Tom pulled back, a ruby drop of blood welling up on his lip. Harry leaned forward and licked it up, swallowing the taste of iron and salt. As he pulled back, Tom’s eyes were flaring that same ruby red, darkening with want.

It was Harry’s turn to smirk. “Fine, you’re no fragile doll.”

A moment later, Tom pressed him against the bed and ravaged his mouth with his own. Harry grinned into his bloodied mouth, kissing him back with the same amount of vigour.

“Fine,” Tom murmured against his mouth. “Then, allow me to be gentle to you. You are a virgin, darling, and I have no intention of hurting you. At least, not in a way you won’t enjoy.”

Harry’s response was swallowed by moans as Tom stroked his cock. His eyes rolled back as Tom’s cool fingers wrapped around him, his grip light and almost teasing. He let Tom continue while he slid a third finger deep inside his lover’s hole. Tom’s grip stuttered as his eyes squeezed shut. He grabbed that shaking hand and leveraged it up and then back as he pressed Tom into the mattress, one arm pinned above his head.

Tom was boneless enough for Harry to ease his lover’s legs over his shoulders, giving him easy access. Harry watched his cheeks burn, but he ignored it when he slid his fingers deeper, finding that sensitive nub inside him. Harry had done his reading for this, after all. He wanted to be prepared to pleasure his lover.

“Oh! Harry! Don’t stop!”

Like the bastard he was, however, he did.

Tom groaned. “Harry!”

He chuckled. “Patience.” Then his mouth descended on his hole, his tongue truly showing him in that moment how closely tied he was to the house of serpents and how the act of parseltongue truly came naturally to him.

Tom screamed up into the ceiling, legs shaking over Harry’s shoulders before he finally retreated his tongue. And he still didn’t let Tom come.

However, that was quickly going to change as he lined his erect cock up with Tom’s sufficiently loosened hole, still dripping with conjured lubrication.

“Ready, darling?” Harry asked, his smirk sharp and feral.

Tom wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist. “Yes,” he replied.

His hands gripped his waist as he slowly eased deep inside him. He didn’t want to hurt him, especially when he saw Tom’s brow furrow and wince. Harry released all his tension as Tom’s hand wandered all over him, distracting him from Tom’s discomfort. Soon enough, however, his cock was now flush inside him.

Tom pulled a ragged gasp from his lungs, Harry’s cock dragging against every sweet spot inside him. Harry’s nerves were on fire from his tight, wet heat that he never wanted to leave.

“Tom,” Harry gasped, eyes rolling back. “It’s so good, it’s so tight.”

Tom yanked him closer by the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair. “Harry,” he murmured in his ear. “Move. Now.” He cried out when Harry gave his first punishing thrust. “More!” Tom gasped. “Don’t stop!”

This time, he acquiesced.

Harry was lost to pleasure, arms wrapped tightly around Tom’s neck as he set a steady rhythm, the two of them in perfect sync. So much so, when Tom groaned into his neck and spilled his release flush against both of their stomachs, Harry couldn’t help but come, spraying deep inside. His hips stuttered before he continued to harshly pound against him, flesh smacking against flesh as he chased his release.

Tom collapsed against the mattress before rolling onto his side. Harry rolled over to face him, pillowing his head against Tom’s chest. They rested together, sharing the same breath, living in the same shared moment before the rest of their lives swept in to take it away.

Like the fact that Harry needed to go back to Grimmauld Place tonight. Like Tom’s responsibilities with his subordinates, and the new bills he’s drafting.

But for now, none of that mattered.

Tom pulled away, gently cupping Harry’s cheek in his hand. “Will you allow me to court you, Harry Potter?” Tom murmured.

Harry smiled. “Yes, Tom, yes I will.” And because he was a cheeky brat, he leaned forward and gave his lover a truly filthy kiss.

Tom pulled back after a few moments, spit dripping from his bottom lip. “Harry…”

“Now that we’re properly courting,” Harry began, trailing his hand up Tom’s chest, “what do you say to another round? Maybe this time, you can fuck me.”

Tom grinned, eyes red again. “I don’t believe you’ll be making it back to Grimmauld Place tonight, darling.”

“Perfect,” Harry sighed, and Tom pressed him into the mattress again.

[virgil-anon]

I finally wrote the fic based off this post I asked about in the notes so without further ado! *drumroll please*

burning ascension; cold as ice by virgil_anon on ao3!

Creator chose not to use archive warnings

Rating: Mature

Category: N/A

Tags: Harvey Dent/Bruce Wayne, Post-Jason Todd's Death, Depressed Bruce Wayne, Petty Bruce Wayne, Sugar Daddy Bruce Wayne if You Squint, Pre-Slash, Betaed

Summary:

Bruce didn't remember the weeks after Jason died. There were flashes, but nothing solid. He remembered pulling his body from the explosion. He remembered tears running down his cheeks.

after jasons death bruce "accidentally" slips harvey a crowbar while hes in arkham and kisses his cheek and says, voice soft and colder than ice, "make him hurt for me honey"

it takes 6 guards to sedate and drag two face off the joker the next time two face sees him and for the rest of their lives as soon as harvey sees the joker he goes after him like a rabid dog.

[virgil-anon]

My New One-Shot

Harry Potter Died (Again) by virgil_anon on ao3

Summary:

Harry Potter died. Again. And again. Something has been missing since his defeat of Voldemort, an ache in his chest so big and yawning he was afraid it would swallow him whole.

With no one else to talk to about it, Harry turns to Death.

Relevant tags: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, battle of hogwarts, post battle of hogwarts, master of death Harry potter, Harry Potter is lonely, Harry misses the horcrux, horcruxes, angst, angst with a happy ending, Dumbledore bashing, death ships it

Snippet:

Harry didn't talk about what happened in the Forbidden Forest. Yes, everyone knew that he died—that Voldemort had killed him, more accurately. Hagrid hadn't stopped telling anyone who would listen about it. But no one knew what happened while he was gone—dead. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, had died. Then he came back (and it was quite a shame only Hermione appreciated his Jesus joke). Harry hadn't even truly understood all that happened while at King's Cross. Not until after the battle. After Harry defeated Voldemort once and for all. After the man who turned himself into a monster died just like any other wizard. Like Fred, and Remus and Tonks. He couldn't outrun death, because no one could. Harry wasn't proud of the way he collapsed after dealing the final blow, as he felt how well and truly hollow he was inside. He couldn't properly breathe, like there was a gaping hole in his chest that threatened to swallow him whole. He didn't remember much till Ron and Hermione showed up. Then he had his best friends to lean on as he cried. They helped carry him away as the survivors rushed forward, and despite Voldemort’s death, the battle continued. Word spread like wildfire. “Voldemort is dead!” echoed off the broken castle walls, in much the same way the Death Eaters had declared his own death a mere thirty minutes ago. Or was it an hour? He had no idea. He only heard second-hand accounts of what came after. At the time, he could only think of his death. He needed to know what happened to him. His friends helped him inside, and he could stand on his own two feet again. “Hermione,” Harry rasped. “Your bag. I need your bag.” She frowned. “What? What for?” He waved his hand impatiently. “I don't have time to explain. There's something I need to do, and I need both of you to help the others catch the stragglers.” With Ron's insistence backing him up, Hermione gave Harry her Ever-Expanding Bag and they ran towards the Great Hall. Harry tightened his grip on the drawstring bag and marched up to the Headmaster's office. The pensieve was still where Harry and his friends had left it. He dipped inside and watched Snape’s dying memories again. And again. Then he remembered. With a simple accio, he pulled The Beetle and the Bard from Hermione's bag. He didn't feel right sitting in Dumbledore’s—or was it Snape’s now?—chair, so he sat in the smaller, less ornate one and reread the children's story. The story of the Deathly Hallows. Harry still had all three. His cloak was in his pocket, the stone in the snitch, and the wand was clutched in his dirt-streaked hand. But that wasn't the interesting part. He'd been so sure that it was Dumbledore. Why wouldn't he be? He knew the man was dead, he'd been his mentor in life, surely in death he could be as well? “He greeted Death like an old friend.” And Harry had. He had met Death at a crossroads—and what was more poetic than King's Crossing, the physical manifestation of the split between Harry's muggle and magical worlds? And he came back. Didn't that make him Death's Master? Only the realisation hadn't fixed the gaping hole in his chest.

[virgil-anon]

a touch of fate by virgil_anon on ao3

Summary: When Harry and Cedric touch the Triwizard Tournament Cup inside the maze, instead of taking them to the graveyard as the portkey intended, the magics of the ancient Goblet fought back.

Flung into the past, the two must work together to ever hope of finding their way home.

Relationship(s): Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter & Cedric Diggory, Alphard Black/Cedric Diggory

Snippet under the break!

The twenty-fourth of June, 1942, was supposed to be a quiet night. In the history books, it was widely regarded as forgotten and unremarkable. Now, a large boom and flash of bright blue light could be heard from miles away, lighting up every window in the castle facing the quidditch pitch, and half of the Forbidden Forest. The sound woke nearly everyone in the castle, except for Peeves and a handful of particularly tired house elves.

Madam Noreen Blainey rushed out of the infirmary, which was thankfully devoid of any patients this close to the end of term, throwing on her red mediwitch robe before quickly making her way down to the pitch. Along the way, Professors Dumbledore, Slughorn, Diggory, and Vassy, all the Heads of their respective Houses, met her on the lawn, carrying their wands ignited with lumos to light their way.

Once there, in the middle of the field, she found two unconscious students—one in red and one in yellow—clutching the Goblet of Fire between them like a lifeline.

Slughorn gasped. “That's the Goblet of Fire, that is.”

“Yes, we all have eyes, Horace!” Vassy snapped.

Noreen rushed to their sides, and thankfully Dumbledore cast two shining balls of light to follow her, each one hovering over a particular boy's head. Casting two quick diagnostic charms, both seemed to be in relatively good condition. The only current injury both boys had was a burn scarring into their palms, which she could tell was from the Goblet. There was nothing to explain why they were unconscious, although cuts, bruises, and dehydration showed they had been involved in rigorous activities prior to now.

However, the boy in red showed a concerning amount of malnutrition, something that had her frowning. He also had a scar on his forehead that never properly healed, Dark magic pulsing off of it like it was still alive.

Noreen pulled out her bag, where two stretchers were shrunken down. She pulled them out and resized them before gently levitating each boy onto the gurney. Glancing at the professors at her disposal, she ordered, “Diggory, Dumbledore, come with me for assistance. Slughorn, I'd like you to prepare your lab, I need you to brew a few things for me. And Vassy, please alert Dippet, I will need his involvement for what's to come.”

Vassy frowned. “What's going on? Who are these boys?”

Noreen shrugged. “I don't know, but I think they'll be able to tell us themselves when they wake up.”

Thankfully, the professors listened and followed all of her instructions. Slughorn levitated the boy in yellow, and Dumbledore handled the boy in red, both of their respective orbs keeping vigil over their heads. She grabbed the Goblet, although she didn't touch it, merely levitating it in front of her.

“Which potions do you need, Noreen?” Slughorn asked.

“A nutrition potion, the strongest pain relievers you can brew, and some of that magical burn salve,” she replied. ‘I fear my current stock won't do much to help their hands.”

Slughorn nodded. “Of course, I'll get right on that.” Without another word, he split off towards the dungeons. Vassy headed towards the Headmaster’s office, while the rest of them made it to the infirmary.

Noreen gestured to two beds closest to her own rooms, and each boy was gently laid down. She administered pain relievers and her current stock of burn salves with Diggory’s help, but it only did so much.

The fireplace lit up green, and Dippet stepped out with Vassy following close behind.

“My word,” he exclaimed. “What happened here?”

“We're not sure,” Noreen replied.

“I believe I have a clue,” Dumbledore murmured.

Dippet turned towards him. “What is it, Albus?”

The Transfiguration Professor levitated the Goblet of Fire. “We found the boys clutching this. Look at the date.”

Everyone stepped closer, gasps ringing out when Noreen made out the letters in the lamplight: 1994.

By Merlin and Morgana both, she needed a drink.

[virgil-anon]

a pit of vipers and phoenix tears by virgil_anon on ao3

Relationship(s): Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Albus Dumbledore & Aberforth Dumbledore

Summary:

Albus Dumbledore, in the wake of his sister’s death, moves to Egypt after graduation, dragging Aberforth with him. Studying under Nicolas Flamel, an old family friend, he spends his days in the Cairo Museum of Antiquities.

Gellert Grindelwald, the once-soldier, now deserter, has seen better days. And worse days. Like the day he stumbled into the lost city of the dead and barely made it out alive. And now, a pretty redhead was going to be the death of him since he agreed to bring him back to that thrice-damned city.

Or; the grindelore mummy au that explores their past, present, and future, featuring brotherly bonding and undead creatures.

Snippet under the break!

The metal door swung open with a metal bang . Two guards in sand-coloured uniforms roughly escorted the prisoner outside. His hair was long and dirty blond, and his clothes had seen better days. The guards threw him forward and he grabbed onto the metal bars with both hands, baring his teeth at their guide.

He looked almost feral . But at least his hands were handcuffed.

One guard kicked the back of his knee and he sank down, his piercing blue eyes never leaving Albus’.

The guide, rather smartly, backed up, gesturing for Albus and Aberforth to step forward. Albus stayed where he was. “This is the man you stole it from?” he asked Aberforth.

“Yes, exactly,” Aberforth replied, “so why don’t we go sniff out a spot off tiff in—”

“Who are you?” the prisoner interrupted, raising his voice. It was rough, probably from lack of food or water, but still, it sent a shudder up Albus’ spine. “And what do you want?”

“Well, I-I’m a local missionary sort of chap, spreading the good word,” Aberforth lied as he stepped closer, “and this is my brother, Al.” He grabbed Albus’ elbow and dragged him forward.

“Hello,” Albus managed.

The prisoner snorted. “Right.”

Albus felt his cheeks colour in offence.

A commotion started somewhere behind them, and their guide shouted more in Arabic. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Then he quickly started towards the shouting.

“Ask him about the box,” Aberforth hissed, pushing Albus even closer to the bars.

“We both found your puzzle box,” Albus said, “and we’ve come to ask you about it.”

“No,” the man said immediately.

“No,” Albus echoed, a frown pinching at his brows.

“No,” the prisoner agreed. “You came to ask me about Hamunaptra.”

Aberforth immediately started shushing him and glancing over his shoulder at the surrounding witnesses, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention.

“How do you know the box pertains to Hamunaptra?” Albus asked.

“Because that’s where I was when I found it,” the prisoner replied. “I was there.”

Aberforth stepped forward, crouching down to meet the prisoner’s eye level. “How do we know that’s not a load of pig shit?”

The prisoner frowned. “Do I know you?”

“No, no,” Aberforth denied. “I’ve just got one of those faces.”

Recognition lit up in the prisoner’s eyes, and in a split second, he lunged his fist through the bars and struck Aberforth across the cheek. His brother groaned and stumbled onto the ground while the guard still behind the prisoner grabbed him, holding him still. He struck him with his gun, and the prisoner grunted in pain.

But Albus ignored his brother, neatly stepping over his crumpled form to get closer to the prisoner. “Wait, you were actually at Hamunaptra?”

The prisoner grinned. “Yeah, I was there.”

“You swear?” Albus asked. He wasn’t sure if he could take his word for it, but he had no other way of verifying it. “The real Hamunaptra?”

“Are you doubting me?” he asked.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Albus insisted. He also couldn’t risk alienating this man.

“I know what you meant,” the man said. “But I know. I was there. City of the Dead.”

Well, he seemed to know what he was talking about. “Could you tell me how to get there?” Albus heard the guide yelling again, so he crouched down at the man’s eye level, lowering his voice. He didn’t want anyone to overhear. “The exact location?”

“You really wanna know?” the man asked.

“Yes,” Albus replied.

“Do you really wanna know?” the man asked, leaning closer.

“Yes,” Albus said, tone more insistent.

He gestured closer, two fingers curling between the gaps of the bars. Albus stepped closer, then closer still when the man continued to urge him closer, leaning down between two metal bars.

Then his hand quickly grasped his chin, yanking him in close for a searing kiss. Albus gasped, a hand circling the nearest bar, but couldn’t pull away.

“Then get me the hell out of here!” the man hissed into his mouth. Then hands were dragging the prisoner away. Their guide showed up, shouting at the prisoner and waving at the guards with his hands. Albus stumbled back from the cell, his gaze never leaving the prisoner’s chilly blue eyes until the door banged shut.

His lips were buzzing, warmth spreading to the rest of his face. His hands were shaking at his sides, but Albus didn’t know if that was nerves or adrenaline.

“Where are they taking him?” Albus asked, tone urgent.

“To be hanged,” the guide said. “Apparently, he had a very good time.”

[virgil-anon]

I don't know how many people follow me who are into grindelore BUT I started writing a fic that's a Mummy AU sort of inspired fusion with canon, where Albus and Aberforth go to Egypt after Ariana tragically passes away. Once there, Aberforth stumbles across a map to the City of the Dead, where the wealth of Egypt is said to be buried. Gellert originally had the map, and the two brothers break him out of prison before beginning their adventure across the Nile River.

If anyone's interested in reading there's currently 2 chapters published and the third one is coming soon! You can read it here!

It's called: a pit of vipers and phoenix tears by virgil_anon