It's no secret that I suffer from crippling delusions of grandeur. I think it's also called "little man" disease or something. I throw my weight around the Loud House fandom like an abusive husband flexing on his frightened wife. I have my head so far up my own ass that I can't take a deep breath without puking and I really want to be primo Stephen King but barely manage a Dollar Store Dean Koontz. The only thing bigger than my ego is my wallet. I've been doing commissions since November 2019 and I've already made two million dollars. I treat my customers like garbage and steal from them. One guy paid me 1000 dollars for a oneshot and I just didn't do it. LOL get rekt.
After over four years of being the best living Loud House writer alive, I have a ton of stories that either weren't posted or were posted on some out of the way 4chan thread or Pastebin. There are even a few that I deleted from my FFN account during my little diaper baby hissy fit over Patanu not making a Flagg x Lynn sin kid (his name would have been Flynn2018 and he would have been cash money, i swear). Some of those stories are complete, others are fragments (because there's nothing quite as satisfying as reading a story that isn't done). Because I see myself as a rock star, I equated these stories with those album releases bands put out for super fans. You know the ones, they have a bunch of demos, studio outtakes, rare B sides, that kind of thing. My fav band ever, AC/DC, did one called Bonfire in tribute of their late lead singer Bon Scott. As an AC/DC mark, I fapped so hard for it. I did to myself what you do to yourself when you read one of my super epic Loudcest fics. I even added an extra finger.
One day, it hit me. "Flagg," I said, i said, "you're basically a rock star with billions of screaming fans. Why don't you slap together all that stuff you left on the cutting room floor and make another million?"
Awesome idea, Flagg!
So here it is, Flaggfire, the ultimate monument to my own hubris. The earliest story here was written in July 2017 (and seen only by AberrantScript), and the most recent only a month or so ago. First up is a sequel to the story "Stroking It" from The Loud House Catch-All Drawer. It was written in May 2019 and, iirc, hasn't been posted anywhere.
Lincoln waited until nearly 1am before getting out of bed and creeping into the darkened hall, his steps light and fleet. He paused at his door and cocked his head to listen, but heard nothing, so, tiptoeing, continued to Luan's door. He laid his hand on the cool bass knob, twisted it slowly, and eased it open, wincing at the rusty creak of the hinges. He poked his head tentatively in and squinted against the darkness. Luan shifted in her bed and looked up, the soft rustle of her sheets like an inviting whisper. He went in, eased the door closed behind him, and went over, casting a wary glance at Luna - she was curled up on her side facing the wall, headphones covering her ears.
Luan watched him expectantly, her face twisted with nerves but her eyes pooled with keen anticipation. She wore a flimsy white night dress, and in the silvery shine of the moon falling through the window, he thought he saw her nipples pressing against the silky fabric. She threw the covers back, and Lincoln slipped in, his heartbeat quickening. She draped the blanket over them, enclosing their bodies in erotic warmth. and snuggled up on her side, a smile ghosting across her lips. "Hi," she said lowly.
"Hey," he replied. Should he kiss her? Reach out and put his hand on her hip? He didn't know - earlier that day she masturbated him in his bedroom and ever since, he was so confused he could barely think. He knew one thing for certain: He liked it. A lot.
For an awkward moment, neither moved, then she leaned over and laid her hand on his chest, her touch warm and gentle like the kiss of the summer wind. Lincoln's skin tightened and his breath caught in his chest with a dry rasp. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face, then she slipped her hand under his shirt, the scrape of her fingertips against his bare skin sending a shiver down his spine. She giggled and dragged her nails slowly along his flesh. His dick twitched and started to fill with passion.
Swallowing hard, he found his voice. "You want me to...to do you?"
A lazy smile spread across her face. "If you want," she said and kneaded his chest like an affectionate kitten. "You don't have to."
"I do," he blurted truthfully and his stomach knotted. He'd never touched a girl before and he was afraid of not doing it right: He really wanted to make Luan feel as good as she made him feel earlier but he had no idea what to do. "I just...I need you to show me how."
Luan grinned and ghosted her finger over his nipple. "Okay," she chirped. She withdrew her hand and rolled onto her back, then hooked her leg over his, her toes sensually brushing his calf. "Hand," she said. Lincoln found her hand under the blanket and allowed her to take it and guide it to her center; sickly wet heat radiated from between her legs in baking waves and when she pressed his palm to her core, his heart skipped a beat. Through the material of her dress, she was hot and soft. Her chest rose and fell as her breathing became labored, and in the moonlight, her cheeks blushed furiously. She shifted her butt and used her free hand to hike her dress up around her hips, the fabric slipping from beneath his hand; he cupped her in his palm now, her burning lips trembling with excitement. He'd never felt a softer, sweeter texture, nor anything so hot - she smoldered in his hand like a bed of embers and the dank scent of her arousal stroked primal parts of his brain that he didn't even know existed.
Bowing her legs, she pressed the soles of her feet together, and the petals of her flower opened for him. She laid her hand on the back of his and moved it up, her eyes rolling when the pad of his middle finger brushed a nub-like bundle of nerves. "There," she said huskily and swallowed with an audible click. "Just rub me."
"That's all?" Lincoln asked.
She nodded. "Umhm. It feels really good."
Lincoln hesitated, then made a slow, light circle against her clit, watching her face for signs. She licked her lips and regulated her breathing. He braced his index finger and pinkie against either one of her inner thighs and pressed the heel of his palm against the swell of her pubic mound. He stroked his middle finger through the damp crease of her lips and swirled it around her clit. She lifted her hips slightly and sucked a sharp breath through her teeth. Lincoln's throat was tacky and dry, his heart pounding, his aching dick pushing out the front of his orange lounge pants and pressing into the side of Luan's leg. He propped himself up on his elbow and rubbed her faster, his finger making a wet shlick sound as it slid through her rapidly moistening pussy.
Panting now, Luan raked her hand through her hair and licked her lips again, her body undulating against his palm. Her lids fluttered to narrow slits and her dark, liquidy eyes sparkled in the moonlight. The way her features twisted and contorted in pleasure urged Lincoln on. He massaged her clit faster, firmer, ignoring the cramp in his hand because right now, it was all about her.
"That feels really good," she breathed, urgency in her voice. She moved her legs up in an M and humped his hand, her fingers digging into the blanket. She turned to look at them, and their eyes locked. They gazed at each other for a long, pregnant moment, then she tilted her head back, exposing her delicate throat. "Kiss me."
Without the slightest hesitation, Lincoln leaned over, locked his lips to hers, and swept his tongue clumsily into her mouth. She found it with hers and kissed him back, her hand going to the side of his face and her fingers tangling in his hair. The sweet taste of her saliva flooded his senses, and he unconsciously rubbed faster, his hand flying up and down between her legs, his middle finger working her clit into a hot, throbbing frenzy.
He broke from her lips and placed a flurry of hungry kisses over her face: Her cheek, her jawline, her throat, his lips wrapping around her pulse. She moaned, sighed, and purred deeply, her seeping core grinding against his hand. "God, Lincoln," she said in a burst, the slurring quality of her voice driving him mad with lust. "Stop. stop, stop." His hand froze. She looked at him for an indecisive moment, then brushed her teeth across her lower lip. "It might be going too far...but I want to have sex."
Lincoln's dick strained against his inseam and his heart blasted. Looking at the girl before him, face red, eyes glazed, a mixture of his and her drool coursing down her chin, his dick throbbed hotly, and he realized that he had never wanted anything more in his life, sister or not, too far or not. "O-Okay," he said.
She bit her bottom lip and watched as he pushed his pants down; his dick popped out, and a shiver went through him at the cool sensation of the air. He lifted up a little and pushed them to his ankles, then kicked out of them. He looked at Luan, who smiled drunkenly, and hesitated. Deep in his mind, a voice told him to stop - she was his sister and this was wrong. His body was louder, though, and so was Luan's needy whisper. "Come here."
Giving himself entirely to the moment, he mounted her, his hands pinning her shoulders to the bed and her legs rising in a V on either side of him. His tip prodded between her folds, and her sickly heat broke over him in a dizzying rush. The taste of her mouth lingered on his lips and the musky scent of her excitement filled his nose like the most fragrant perfume; he was so drunk on her that he could barely keep himself upright.
Reaching down between them, she guided his dick to her opening, his head sliding wetly through her damp garden of sisterly delights. He hissed and bowed his head, the feeling of her skin on his bringing him dangerously close. "I'm really close," he trembled.
"Me too," she said. "Don't worry about that. Focus on my body...on how good it feels."
Lincoln nodded. "Okay." He planted his hands on either side of her shoulders and drew a deep, fortifying breath. Luan splayed her fingers on his shoulders and ran them up the sides of his neck, her nails grazing his skin.
"Do it," she whispered, "make love to me."
Locking eyes with her, Lincoln slowly rocked his hips forward, his head sinking into her boiling core with agonizing sluggishness. She dug her nails into his shoulders and braced the heels of her feet in the small of his back, even movement clamping her muscles around him. Hanging his head, Lincoln gritted his teeth and, grabbing handfuls of the sheet, thrusted roughly into her, his dick slamming against her cervix and claming her virginity. She gasped and reflexively arched her back, her wet, rippling walls spasming against his shaft; a long moan escaped her lips and Lincoln's entire body tensed; He was one sudden move away from filling her, but he didn't want it to end.
Panting heavily, he drew back and threw himself forward again, his pelvis coming flush with hers. She uttered a wordless uhhhh and gave a body-wide shudder, her muscles closing around him. He reached the point of no return and could only hold on tight as his orgasm rushed up from his loins. His dick swelled inside of her then released, long ribbons of scalding cum shooting deep into her womb. She jerked against him with a cry and clung to his as her own climax exploded through her, starting in her stomach before engulfing her entire body in seering, white hot intensity.
When she came down from her high, Lincoln lay next to her, the blanket reaching halfway up his chest. She moved to her side and winced at the strange sensation of his thick seed flowing out. She pressed her thighs together to trap him inside, and snuggled up to him, noticing the huge wet spot but not caring. In fact, she liked the thought of their mingled love soaking into the sheets, of being able to smell their passion long after he left.
Lincoln put his arm around her shoulders and she rested her head over his heart, its strong, regular beat soothing. Neither one spoke for a while, Luan trying and failing to come up with a silly pun to make him laugh - she had always loved the sound of his laughter, and sometimes she found herself doing anything to hear it. "We're bad," she finally said.
"Yeah," Lincoln nodded, "we are."
She patted his chest and placed a sizzling kiss to his skin. "Wanna be bad again sometime?"
Lincoln didn't immediately reply. "Yeah," he said and held her close, "I do."
"Good," Luan said, "so do I."
From that point forward, they were very, very bad: In his room, her room, on the couch, in the shower, under the back porch, at the park, and even, believe it or not, a couple times in Lori's bed. She grew to hate those weird, smelly wet spots...
