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hardparadeOK, these are the HP incest requests done. (Ha, rhyming!) They're so very very different. I've still got (HP) Harry/Ron, Ginny/Hermione, (Skins) Sid/anyone, Chris/anyone, Tony/Effy, and (LMS) one more Frank/Dwayne. Whee. :) You can still request if you haven't already, by the way.
Title: lock the door
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Ron/Ginny (mentions of Ron/Hermione and Harry/Ginny)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Incest, character death (Hermione), insane amounts of angst
Summary: Ron and Ginny sleep together once, and tell themselves it was a sick mistake that means nothing. But years later, after the war, things change.
A/N: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
brasiliana who requested Ron/Ginny involving solitude, anger and resentment, which I think I managed to achieve.
They slept together the day after Ginny's fourteenth birthday, but decided never to speak of it, never to let it interfere with their lives. It was a sick mistake brought on by confused feelings and too much firewhiskey, and it meant nothing. They kept telling themselves this, putting all thoughts of that night out of their minds. They never told anyone. They became actors, pretending to themselves, each other, and everyone else, that things were normal, and nothing had ever changed. And they were never discovered. It really was as though the night had never existed. Ginny began seeing other boys, and though Ron was just barely able to conceal his jealousy, he managed to cope with it. She got together with Harry, and Ron never quite knew if his feelings for Hermione were real, or if they were just retaliation.
Hermione died in the war. It was as simple as that. Ron wrote it on the first page of the diary Harry gave him for Christmas, staring at the stark scrawled words, amazed at how meaningless that one sentence was on its own. When it happened he felt nothing, and it continued that way for two months. Everything crashed down around him as Christmas approached. It all hit him. Everybody around him was crying all the time and it took two months for him to join them. He stopped speaking and he barely ate. He would go outside in the snow and just stand there, letting it fall over him. Ginny couldn't even count the number of times she'd gone after him, found him soaked through and shivering, and put a coat over his shoulders and hurried him inside. Sometimes he would go out in his pajamas, first thing in the morning. Molly wanted to send him to a counsellor, and Arthur refused.
And then it ended. He started to speak again, he came down for dinner. He wrote in the diary Harry bought him. Every day.
Ginny and Harry clung to each other after Hermione's death. Their relationship became frighteningly serious, dangerously powerful. They were hardly ever without each other. They talked all the time of getting married, yet plans were never made. Ron would watch them and sit and scribble in his diary, page after page, as they all sat in the living room in front of the fire, drinking wine on long, cold, quiet evenings. Ginny would wordlessly help Ron to bed when he'd had too much to drink, peeling back his sheets for him, dressing him in his pajamas. She would stroke his damp sweaty hair and switch out the light, go back to bed with Harry.
Sometimes Ron would lash out at her, scream and yell, sometimes calling out Hermione's name and sometimes Ginny's. She would usually be able to quieten him with whispered, calming words, but one night he wouldn't stop.
"D'you remember that night?" he shouted, his words slurred. "Do you remember it at all, Gin? Do you remember how I fucked you?"
Ginny hushed him frantically, but he wouldn't stop.
"Why do we act like we don't remember it?" he went on, furious. "Do you know what it meant to me? It felt so good, do you know what it all means to me? Does it mean anything to you, or are you happy with Harry? It's fine for you, you've got him, who've I got? Nobody! I'm on my own, Hermione's dead, you don't want me, you've got him-"
Ginny pressed her hand against his lips, grabbing both of his arms with her other hand and holding them tightly to stop him pushing her away. Her eyes were wide and scared as he held him down – only his little sister, but strong enough.
"I wish we never had," she spat. "I wish I'd never let you. I never stop regretting it."
Ron writhed against the covers, but she didn't let him go.
"You're missing Hermione," she told him. "You're missing Hermione and you're pretending you're missing me. I don't know why, but that's all it is. You don't want me. It's sick."
Ron stopped moving and she took her hands away. She took a step back, afraid of what he might do, what he might say. But all he did was shake his head at her, and kick the mattress once in apparent frustration.
"Come to bed with me, Ginny," he said softly.
"You don't want me," she repeated. "It's sick."
"Lock the door," he whispered. "And come to bed with me."
"I don't want you," she said, willing herself to believe it. She headed towards the door. She was going to leave. She was going to leave him there, and she was going to marry Harry and they were going to move away and she wasn't going to see Ron again.
"Ginny," Ron whispered desperately.
She turned back. She looked him in the eye.
She locked the door.
Title: nipples
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Fred/George
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest
Summary: George plays a prank on Fred, which turns out to have interesting results.
A/N: Forasaiyansmoothie who requested Fred/George involving nipples and the cupboard under the stairs. Lol, it was so hard to write this and make it hot, the word 'nipples' is just like, the least sexiest word ever.
Fred's eyes widened in shock. He glanced down at his body, surprised to see that his nipples were hard and practically poking through the fabric of his shirt, even though it was a hot summer's day and all he was doing was lazing around in the garden. He looked furtively around at the others, hoping they hadn't noticed. Indeed, as he looked around the circle – Harry and Ron lying on their fronts and reading a magazine together, Hermione braiding Ginny's hair – nobody was paying him any attention. He looked at George, next to him, and was slightly disconcerted to see a wide grin across his twin's face.
"A little cold, are you, eh Fred?" George asked, smirking.
Everybody else looked up at this, and Fred quickly wrapped his arms around himself in a particularly uncomfortable and forced fashion. Harry and Ron blinked at him and went back to their magazine, and Ginny and Hermione simply raised their eyebrows.
George reached out, nudging Fred's arm out of the way and brushing his thumb against one of the hard nubs that he could see through the material. Fred let out a gasp. It felt good, unnaturally so, and he pushed George away, confused. George would not be deterred, and he shuffled closer and touched Fred's nipple again. Fred felt a jolt of heat that went straight to his cock, and he gasped again. George grinned at him, checked that the others were still otherwise occupied, and then did it again. Fred felt his cock beginning to harden, and he leapt up gracelessly.
"I – er – I'm going to go and get a drink," he lied, turning towards the house.
"Oh, could you get me one too?" asked Ginny, looking up. "I'd love some cool lemonade."
"That sounds good," Hermione agreed. "If you wouldn't mind."
Harry and Ron also murmured noises of approval, and Fred sighed.
"I'll give you a hand," George said suddenly, his eyes twinkling, and Fred glared at him as they headed into the house.
The minute they were inside, George grabbed Fred from behind and placed both hands over his chest, gently rubbing his palms against Fred's nipples.
"Oh God," Fred spluttered, grabbing hold of the counter. "What the hell is going on?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," said George innocently, trailing one hand down between Fred's legs and cupping his burgeoning hard-on.
Fred groaned, automatically rocking his hips forwards and pressing his cock into George's hand. George swept his thumb across Fred's nipple again, eliciting a sharp cry of pleasure.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Fred hissed, forcing himself to pull away and spin around to look at his twin. "Why have my nipples suddenly become – become – orgasm buttons?"
George snickered. "Beats me," he said with a shrug. "But I have to say, it's a lot of fun."
"I beg to differ," Fred retorted. "Everybody's here, what am I supposed to do about it?"
"I know a place we can go," said George suddenly, grabbing Fred and pushing him backwards out of the room.
"The cupboard under the stairs?" said Fred doubtfully, eyeing the door. "Isn't it kind of…a mess? And George – we really don't have time to, I mean, everyone's waiting for-"
"Believe me," George interrupted. "This won't take long."
Fred opened his mouth to protest a little more, but George reached out and pressed his fingers to his nipples again, and there was no more argument to be had. Fred backed into the cupboard, tearing off his shirt and yanking down his shorts in record time. George grinned, stooping down and sticking out his tongue. Fred leaned back against the wall, which made a loud rustling sound because it was covered in old drawings and paintings by the various Weasleys when they were little. George's tongue darted out over one of the stiff nubs, and Fred cried out.
"That feel good?" asked George, grinning devilishly.
"So good it hurts," Fred moaned, pushing his twin's head back to his chest. He reached into his boxers, grabbing his swollen cock and starting to wank frantically as George licked and sucked on his aching nipples. He didn't believe that George had nothing to do with this, but it was hard to care for the time being – he wasn't sure if he'd ever been so aroused in his life.
George circled one rosy nipple with his fingertip, while kissing and sucking the other, listening to Fred groan. He glanced down to see Fred's cock sliding hard and slick in and out of his fist, and he grinned, knowing it wouldn't be long.
Fred tugged desperately on his cock, unable to believe the sensations he was feeling simply from George's tongue pressing and sliding across his nipples. He felt like he had when he'd just started wanking – like nothing in the world felt that good, and he never wanted the feeling to stop. His orgasm was approaching at lightning speed, though, and he grabbed at George's head, raking his fingers through his twin's hair.
"That's it," George murmured. "Come on, come on…"
Fred came hard, feeling like his whole body was exploding as he spilled over his fist, seeing sparks. His muscles went weak and he slumped against the wall, accidentally setting free a particularly interesting painting by Ginny of a cat with five legs. George watched it flutter to the floor, and sighed.
"Well, you seemed to enjoy that more than I planned," he said.
"What?" Fred asked, frowning.
"It was supposed to be revenge," George explained.
"Revenge? For what?"
"Oh, don't act all innocent. Revenge for the time you charmed my cock to get hard every time anyone mentioned turkey," George said, "and it was Christmas."
Fred's lips curled into a smile, and he laughed fondly at the memory. "I suppose you want an apology," he sighed.
"That, or you could help me out with this," George replied, gesturing to the bulge in his shorts.
"I think that could be arranged," grinned Fred as he dropped to his knees.
Needless to say, the others never did get their lemonade.
Title: lock the door
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Ron/Ginny (mentions of Ron/Hermione and Harry/Ginny)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Incest, character death (Hermione), insane amounts of angst
Summary: Ron and Ginny sleep together once, and tell themselves it was a sick mistake that means nothing. But years later, after the war, things change.
A/N: For
brasiliana who requested Ron/Ginny involving solitude, anger and resentment, which I think I managed to achieve.They slept together the day after Ginny's fourteenth birthday, but decided never to speak of it, never to let it interfere with their lives. It was a sick mistake brought on by confused feelings and too much firewhiskey, and it meant nothing. They kept telling themselves this, putting all thoughts of that night out of their minds. They never told anyone. They became actors, pretending to themselves, each other, and everyone else, that things were normal, and nothing had ever changed. And they were never discovered. It really was as though the night had never existed. Ginny began seeing other boys, and though Ron was just barely able to conceal his jealousy, he managed to cope with it. She got together with Harry, and Ron never quite knew if his feelings for Hermione were real, or if they were just retaliation.
Hermione died in the war. It was as simple as that. Ron wrote it on the first page of the diary Harry gave him for Christmas, staring at the stark scrawled words, amazed at how meaningless that one sentence was on its own. When it happened he felt nothing, and it continued that way for two months. Everything crashed down around him as Christmas approached. It all hit him. Everybody around him was crying all the time and it took two months for him to join them. He stopped speaking and he barely ate. He would go outside in the snow and just stand there, letting it fall over him. Ginny couldn't even count the number of times she'd gone after him, found him soaked through and shivering, and put a coat over his shoulders and hurried him inside. Sometimes he would go out in his pajamas, first thing in the morning. Molly wanted to send him to a counsellor, and Arthur refused.
And then it ended. He started to speak again, he came down for dinner. He wrote in the diary Harry bought him. Every day.
Ginny and Harry clung to each other after Hermione's death. Their relationship became frighteningly serious, dangerously powerful. They were hardly ever without each other. They talked all the time of getting married, yet plans were never made. Ron would watch them and sit and scribble in his diary, page after page, as they all sat in the living room in front of the fire, drinking wine on long, cold, quiet evenings. Ginny would wordlessly help Ron to bed when he'd had too much to drink, peeling back his sheets for him, dressing him in his pajamas. She would stroke his damp sweaty hair and switch out the light, go back to bed with Harry.
Sometimes Ron would lash out at her, scream and yell, sometimes calling out Hermione's name and sometimes Ginny's. She would usually be able to quieten him with whispered, calming words, but one night he wouldn't stop.
"D'you remember that night?" he shouted, his words slurred. "Do you remember it at all, Gin? Do you remember how I fucked you?"
Ginny hushed him frantically, but he wouldn't stop.
"Why do we act like we don't remember it?" he went on, furious. "Do you know what it meant to me? It felt so good, do you know what it all means to me? Does it mean anything to you, or are you happy with Harry? It's fine for you, you've got him, who've I got? Nobody! I'm on my own, Hermione's dead, you don't want me, you've got him-"
Ginny pressed her hand against his lips, grabbing both of his arms with her other hand and holding them tightly to stop him pushing her away. Her eyes were wide and scared as he held him down – only his little sister, but strong enough.
"I wish we never had," she spat. "I wish I'd never let you. I never stop regretting it."
Ron writhed against the covers, but she didn't let him go.
"You're missing Hermione," she told him. "You're missing Hermione and you're pretending you're missing me. I don't know why, but that's all it is. You don't want me. It's sick."
Ron stopped moving and she took her hands away. She took a step back, afraid of what he might do, what he might say. But all he did was shake his head at her, and kick the mattress once in apparent frustration.
"Come to bed with me, Ginny," he said softly.
"You don't want me," she repeated. "It's sick."
"Lock the door," he whispered. "And come to bed with me."
"I don't want you," she said, willing herself to believe it. She headed towards the door. She was going to leave. She was going to leave him there, and she was going to marry Harry and they were going to move away and she wasn't going to see Ron again.
"Ginny," Ron whispered desperately.
She turned back. She looked him in the eye.
She locked the door.
Title: nipples
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Fred/George
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest
Summary: George plays a prank on Fred, which turns out to have interesting results.
A/N: For
asaiyansmoothie who requested Fred/George involving nipples and the cupboard under the stairs. Lol, it was so hard to write this and make it hot, the word 'nipples' is just like, the least sexiest word ever.Fred's eyes widened in shock. He glanced down at his body, surprised to see that his nipples were hard and practically poking through the fabric of his shirt, even though it was a hot summer's day and all he was doing was lazing around in the garden. He looked furtively around at the others, hoping they hadn't noticed. Indeed, as he looked around the circle – Harry and Ron lying on their fronts and reading a magazine together, Hermione braiding Ginny's hair – nobody was paying him any attention. He looked at George, next to him, and was slightly disconcerted to see a wide grin across his twin's face.
"A little cold, are you, eh Fred?" George asked, smirking.
Everybody else looked up at this, and Fred quickly wrapped his arms around himself in a particularly uncomfortable and forced fashion. Harry and Ron blinked at him and went back to their magazine, and Ginny and Hermione simply raised their eyebrows.
George reached out, nudging Fred's arm out of the way and brushing his thumb against one of the hard nubs that he could see through the material. Fred let out a gasp. It felt good, unnaturally so, and he pushed George away, confused. George would not be deterred, and he shuffled closer and touched Fred's nipple again. Fred felt a jolt of heat that went straight to his cock, and he gasped again. George grinned at him, checked that the others were still otherwise occupied, and then did it again. Fred felt his cock beginning to harden, and he leapt up gracelessly.
"I – er – I'm going to go and get a drink," he lied, turning towards the house.
"Oh, could you get me one too?" asked Ginny, looking up. "I'd love some cool lemonade."
"That sounds good," Hermione agreed. "If you wouldn't mind."
Harry and Ron also murmured noises of approval, and Fred sighed.
"I'll give you a hand," George said suddenly, his eyes twinkling, and Fred glared at him as they headed into the house.
The minute they were inside, George grabbed Fred from behind and placed both hands over his chest, gently rubbing his palms against Fred's nipples.
"Oh God," Fred spluttered, grabbing hold of the counter. "What the hell is going on?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," said George innocently, trailing one hand down between Fred's legs and cupping his burgeoning hard-on.
Fred groaned, automatically rocking his hips forwards and pressing his cock into George's hand. George swept his thumb across Fred's nipple again, eliciting a sharp cry of pleasure.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Fred hissed, forcing himself to pull away and spin around to look at his twin. "Why have my nipples suddenly become – become – orgasm buttons?"
George snickered. "Beats me," he said with a shrug. "But I have to say, it's a lot of fun."
"I beg to differ," Fred retorted. "Everybody's here, what am I supposed to do about it?"
"I know a place we can go," said George suddenly, grabbing Fred and pushing him backwards out of the room.
"The cupboard under the stairs?" said Fred doubtfully, eyeing the door. "Isn't it kind of…a mess? And George – we really don't have time to, I mean, everyone's waiting for-"
"Believe me," George interrupted. "This won't take long."
Fred opened his mouth to protest a little more, but George reached out and pressed his fingers to his nipples again, and there was no more argument to be had. Fred backed into the cupboard, tearing off his shirt and yanking down his shorts in record time. George grinned, stooping down and sticking out his tongue. Fred leaned back against the wall, which made a loud rustling sound because it was covered in old drawings and paintings by the various Weasleys when they were little. George's tongue darted out over one of the stiff nubs, and Fred cried out.
"That feel good?" asked George, grinning devilishly.
"So good it hurts," Fred moaned, pushing his twin's head back to his chest. He reached into his boxers, grabbing his swollen cock and starting to wank frantically as George licked and sucked on his aching nipples. He didn't believe that George had nothing to do with this, but it was hard to care for the time being – he wasn't sure if he'd ever been so aroused in his life.
George circled one rosy nipple with his fingertip, while kissing and sucking the other, listening to Fred groan. He glanced down to see Fred's cock sliding hard and slick in and out of his fist, and he grinned, knowing it wouldn't be long.
Fred tugged desperately on his cock, unable to believe the sensations he was feeling simply from George's tongue pressing and sliding across his nipples. He felt like he had when he'd just started wanking – like nothing in the world felt that good, and he never wanted the feeling to stop. His orgasm was approaching at lightning speed, though, and he grabbed at George's head, raking his fingers through his twin's hair.
"That's it," George murmured. "Come on, come on…"
Fred came hard, feeling like his whole body was exploding as he spilled over his fist, seeing sparks. His muscles went weak and he slumped against the wall, accidentally setting free a particularly interesting painting by Ginny of a cat with five legs. George watched it flutter to the floor, and sighed.
"Well, you seemed to enjoy that more than I planned," he said.
"What?" Fred asked, frowning.
"It was supposed to be revenge," George explained.
"Revenge? For what?"
"Oh, don't act all innocent. Revenge for the time you charmed my cock to get hard every time anyone mentioned turkey," George said, "and it was Christmas."
Fred's lips curled into a smile, and he laughed fondly at the memory. "I suppose you want an apology," he sighed.
"That, or you could help me out with this," George replied, gesturing to the bulge in his shorts.
"I think that could be arranged," grinned Fred as he dropped to his knees.
Needless to say, the others never did get their lemonade.
