Writings From Wells

This smut contains an intoxicated reader. They are an established couple who both understand that consent can be revoked at anytime. 

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Harry Wells was an asshole to say the least. Angry, short tempered, quick to say things that cut you like a knife. But behind closed doors, that man was the dirtiest slut the world would never know. 

People don't usually call boys "sluts" but that's what he is. An absolutely, downright, dirty slut. An absolute freak the second it was just the pair of you alone. 

His hands roamed freely, almost never leaving your body. He wanted to watch while you masturbated. His kisses were never quick pecks, always heated, intense, and intentional. 

This man was a switch. He wanted to be owned but wanted to own you. He wanted to be slapped across the face while he bottomed out inside of you. He wanted to be choked while you rode him. And his favorite was when you sucked his cock, and with the silly lovesick grin you had, dribble his cum into his mouth, but he would do the same to you. 

He gave you limited control because in an instant, he would take it all back and destroy your pussy like you hadn't had him whimpering for release 2 minutes prior. 

Harry Wells was a slut. 

He caught you today, drunken, after a night out with the girls. Which Cisco had given you the same little vial he gave Barry and you were 3 sheets to the wind. 

The moment you had sped through the door of your apartment, you were mumbling something about wanting to be dicked down. And bad. 

And Harry? Well, he was all for it. You wandered from the door you had just phased through to the bedroom where Harry was already getting up to see who was stumbling through the house. 

"I told you I'd drive you home, dummy" he said as he hugged you. 

"I-I ran here instead" you slurred followed by laughter and hiccups. Which Harry adored. 

"You did? Good girl" Harry replied as he helped you take off your jewelry. 

"I had such a good -hiccup- time, babe" you tell him drunkenly as you say back on the bed. "I want -hiccup- dick now" you added, reaching towards his jeans. 

"Do you, pretty girl?" Harry asked absently, clicking his hips back to dodge your drunken efforts to remove his belt. 

"Mmhmm" you hummed. 

"Honey, you're phasing" Harry spoke. You had unintentionally started phasing as you sat on the bed. 

"Heeeeyyyy -hiccup- I can do that!" You gasped excitedly. 

"Yes, you can" Harry smiled. "Wanna pull your dress up for me so I can give you dick?" 

"Mmm, yes please" you say excitedly. You stood up and within seconds and a flurry of blue lightning was naked on the bed again. 

"Good girl" Harry encouraged. "Wanna spread those legs for me?" 

You did. Nothing but a silly little grin on your face. 

Harry knelt down in front of you, his eyes on your slick cunt. 

"Can I?" He asked. 

You nodded happily. 

Harry licked a long, hot stripe up your core. Earning him a drawn out moan of pleasure. He teased your folds, reveling in the sounds of your moans that you were unable to hold back in your drunkenness. 

Your hands shot to his hair, yanking him into your delicate flower full force. 

He was drowning in it. Licking and sucking relentlessly. Unable to contain the excitement in his jeans as you loudly whimpered and moaned. 

"You're such a good girl (y/n), you know that?" Harry said from between your thighs. "Such a good fucking girl" 

You could do nothing but grind your hips on his face, seeking more friction from him. Your drunk hands still holding him captive to your cunt. 

"Ugh, baby, this pussy tastes so good" Harry moaned as he ate your cunt like a starving dog. What could you say? The man was hungry.

Your moans got progressively louder as you neared release. Your hips stuttering with each flick you did on his face.

"Come on baby, cum for me" he cooed, voiced muffled. "Right on my face" and that was the end of your limited control. 

You came with a force so strong your body convulsed. Your legs squeezing him to your cunt, giving him no escape, but he wasn't gonna complain. After all, he was obsessed. 

He lapped at your juices, licking up even drop of your release he could manage to find. "Fuck" he hissed as he palmed himself, a lightning bolt jolting through him as he watched you . 

He stood up, face glistening and wet. 

"Dinner was great, sweetheart. Still want my cock?" Harry asked, panting. "You don't have to if you don't want to" he added. 

"Shut up and come give me your babies" you slurred with a wide smile. 

Harry tore his shirt off, tossing it to the side. Not caring about the belt, he scraped his jeans down to his ankles, along with his boxers. 

He barbarically wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"God I love the way your cunt drools on my cock" Harry said, sliding into your still sensitive hole. 

He didn't give you time to adjust, not that you needed it. Harry set a punishing rhythm from the start, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with your drunken moans and his grunts of pleasure. But it wasn't long before those grunts turned into something else.

"Fuck, baby," he whimpered, his voice cracking as your walls clenched around him. "So tight... so wet for me." His head fell forward, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he lost himself in the feeling of your pussy gripping his cock. "You feel... oh god, you feel so good."

You reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling his head back. "Look at me," you commanded, your voice slurred but firm. "I want to see you when you fuck me."

Harry's eyes were dark with lust, his pupils blown wide. "Yes, ma'am," he breathed, his hips never ceasing their relentless pace. He watched your face as he drove into you, his lips parted as soft whimpers escaped them. "You're so beautiful like this," he moaned. "All drunk and desperate for my cock."

His movements became more erratic, his control slipping. "Gonna cum already," he gasped, his thrusts becoming shallower. "Fuck, (y/n), you're gonna make me cum."

"Not yet," you growled, surprising yourself with your own dominance. You pushed against his chest, and to your delight, he allowed himself to be rolled over until you were straddling him. "I'm not done with you yet."

Harry looked up at you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. "Whatever you want, baby," he breathed. "It's all yours."

You began to ride him, setting a slow, torturous rhythm that had him squirming beneath you. "You like that?" you asked, grinding your hips in circles. "You like it when I take control?"

"God, yes," he moaned, his hands gripping your thighs. "Please, baby... faster."

"Say please again," you demanded, leaning forward until your faces were inches apart.

"Please," he whimpered, his eyes pleading. "Please, (y/n), ride my cock. Make me cum."

You obliged, increasing your pace until the bed was creaking beneath you. Harry's hands roamed your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples, gripping your ass as you bounced on his cock.

"Spit in my mouth," he suddenly gasped, his eyes wild with desire. "Please, baby, spit in my mouth."

You leaned down, letting a trail of saliva drip from your lips into his waiting mouth. Harry moaned as he swallowed, his hips bucking up to meet yours.

"Again," he begged. "Please, again."

You obliged, this time spitting directly onto his tongue. Harry's response was immediate - a loud, unrestrained moan as he pulled you down for a messy, passionate kiss, sharing your saliva with you in a filthy exchange.

"Fuck," he panted when you finally broke apart. "Fuck, I'm close. So close."

"Then cum for me," you commanded, your hips moving faster. "Cum inside me, Harry. Fill me up."

His back arched off the bed as he obeyed, a series of high-pitched whimpers escaping his lips as he emptied himself inside you. "Take it," he gasped. "Take all of it, baby."

You continued to ride him through his orgasm, your own release building as his cum filled you. "Don't stop," you begged. "Please, don't stop."

Harry, ever the attentive lover even in his post-orgasmic haze, reached between your bodies to rub your clit. "Cum for me," he urged. "Come on, baby, cum all over my cock."

That was all it took. Your body convulsed as waves of pleasure washed over you, your cries filling the room as you collapsed against his chest.

For a moment, you both lay there, panting and sweaty. Then Harry rolled you over, pinning you beneath him once more.

"One more time," he growled, already hard again. "I need to feel you cum around my cock one more time."

You could only nod, grinning like a fool, too spent to speak as he entered you again, this time with a slower, more deliberate rhythm that had you trembling with pleasure.

"That's it," he cooed, his lips brushing against your ear. "Just like that, baby. Let me hear those pretty sounds."

And you did, moaning and whimpering as he brought you to the edge once more, his own sounds of pleasure mixing with yours until you both reached your peak together, crying out each other's names as you collapsed in a heap of tangled limbs and sweaty sheets.

Harry rolled off you, pulling you into his arms as you both struggled to catch your breath. "God, I love you," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

You mumbled something in response, already half-asleep as exhaustion and alcohol finally caught up with you. 

Harry held you close, watching you sleep with a tender expression that few ever got to see. The asshole exterior was gone, replaced by something softer, something that only you ever got to witness. And as he drifted off to sleep beside you, he knew that no matter how much of a slut he was with you, you were the only one who'd ever truly own his heart.

But Harry wasn't done with you yet. After a few minutes of recovery, he was stirring again, his cock already hardening against your thigh.

"Turn over," he commanded, his voice low and husky. "Hands and knees, baby. I want to see that ass."

Too drunk and fucked out to argue, you complied, positioning yourself on all fours. You knew you could say "no" or "stop" at any time and he would, but this was the best sex you'd ever had. 

Harry knelt behind you, his hands kneading the soft flesh of your ass.

"God, look at this," he murmured, spreading your cheeks to reveal your dripping pussy, still wet with his cum. "All mine to use."

Without warning, he plunged back into you, his cock filling you completely. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your fingers gripping the sheets as he began to move.

"Fuck, yes," he growled, his hands gripping your hips as he set a brutal pace. "Take my cock, baby. Take it all."

His thrusts were deep and hard, each one pushing you forward on the bed. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

"You like that?" he asked, punctuating his question with a sharp slap to your ass. "You like it when I fuck you like this?"

"Yes," you gasped, pushing back to meet his thrusts. "Harder, Harry. Please."

He obliged, his movements becoming more aggressive. "Such a greedy little slut," he chuckled darkly. "Always wanting more."

His hand came down again, this time harder, leaving a red imprint on your skin. You yelped at the sting, but your pussy clenched around him in response.

"Again," you begged. "Please, again."

Harry's laughter was low and menacing. "Anything for my little slut." He spanked you again, this time on the other cheek, then again, and again, until your ass was red and stinging.

"God, look at that," he murmured, his fingers tracing the red marks he'd left. "Marked as mine. All mine."

His hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back until your neck was exposed. "Tell me who you belong to," he demanded, his lips brushing against your ear.

"You," you gasped. "I belong to you, Harry."

"Damn right," he growled, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "And I'm gonna breed this pretty little pussy until you're swollen with my babies."

The filthy words sent a jolt through you. "Yes," you cried out. "Please, Harry. Breed me. Fill me up with your cum."

His rhythm faltered as he approached his climax. "Gonna knock you up," he panted. "Gonna put a baby in this tight little cunt. Would you like that, baby? Want everyone to know who fucked you this good?"

"Yes," you screamed. "Yes, Harry, please!"

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his release. The warmth spreading through you pushed you over the edge again, your walls fluttering around him as you came for the third time that night.

Harry collapsed on top of you, both of you panting heavily. After a moment, he rolled to the side, pulling you against his chest.

"Still want more?" he asked, his voice teasing but also hopeful.

You shook your head weakly. "Can't," you mumbled. "Too tired."

Harry chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Okay, baby. Rest now. But tomorrow, I'm gonna wake you up with my cock in your mouth."

You smiled sleepily, already drifting off. "Promise?" you mumbled before passing out completely.

Harry watched you sleep, a rare genuine smile on his face. The sexually charged energy, replaced by something softer, something that only you ever got to see. He pressed another gentle kiss to your forehead before settling in beside you, content to hold you through the night, already planning all the ways he'd make you scream his name in the morning.

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Being a speedster was no easy feat, well actually, it was a breeze. You did everything within seconds. 

Harry hated it. You moved so much faster than him. Usually, he was the one far ahead and had other struggling to catch up. But how can you challenge a genius who could also read a book and understand the book at lightning speed? 

The mission had started at 9:47 p.m.

A metahuman robbery downtown. Fast. Violent. Messy.

By the time Team Flash got there, CCPD was already blocked off three streets, flashing lights staining the pavement blue and red. Barry had gone after the meta immediately, Cisco close behind with some half-finished dampener tech he swore would work "this time."

You had gotten there first.

Of course you had.

Harry watched from the cortex monitors with his jaw clenched as your lightning streaked through downtown traffic. You disarmed the meta in under thirty seconds, evacuated civilians in less than ten, and somehow still had time to mouth off to Barry over comms.

"Little slow tonight, Allen." You taunted.

Cisco's laughter crackled through the speakers.

Barry groaned. "You know, one day I'm gonna stop saving you from emotional damage caused by Harry."

"I'd like to see him try." Cisco scoffed. 

Harry muted the comms instantly.

Not because he was angry.

Because Cisco was right.

The problem wasn't your speed.

It was that you enjoyed challenging him with it.

You leaned against the cortex railing afterward, still buzzing with adrenaline, suit torn slightly near your shoulder from where the meta had clipped you. Barry and Cisco had left over an hour ago, Caitlin shortly after. Even the building itself seemed quieter now, STAR Labs settling into the low mechanical hum of late night.

Only you and Harry remained.

Which was somehow becoming a dangerous pattern.

"You hesitated," Harry said finally from the platform below, not looking up from the data on his monitor.

You scoffed. "I literally saved twelve people."

"You still hesitated."

"I was making sure the bridge wouldn't collapse."

"You were showing off."

That made you grin.

Harry finally looked up then, blue eyes sharp behind his glasses. "You think because you can move faster than everyone else that consequences can't catch you."

"And you think because you're the smartest person in every room you're automatically right."

"I usually am."

You sped down the stairs in a blur, stopping directly in front of him.

"God, you are insufferable."

"And yet," Harry said coolly, setting down his tablet, "you're still here."

The words hit harder than they should have.

The clock on the cortex wall read 1:13 a.m.

The rest of the building was dark except for the scattered glow of monitors around the cortex and the warm overhead lights in Harry's lab downstairs.

You should've gone home an hour ago.

Instead, you followed him into his lab while he reviewed the mission data.

Harry rolled up the sleeves of his dark button-down, muttering under his breath while pulling footage onto the screen. "Your heart rate spiked before impact."

"Oh my God," you groaned dramatically. "Are you jealous of my heartbeat now too?"

His eyes narrowed.

"You think this is funny."

"No," you said, stepping closer to him slowly. "I think you're cute when you're annoyed."

Harry's expression darkened instantly.

Wrong choice.

Or maybe exactly the right one.

He turned back toward the monitor, jaw tight. "Go home."

"No."

"(Y/N)."

"What?" you challenged, leaning against the workbench beside him. "You gonna make me?"

The silence stretched.

Thick.

Electric.

You noticed the way his fingers flexed against the edge of the table. The way his eyes flicked briefly toward your mouth before forcing themselves away again.

For weeks now, this thing between you had been building in sharp glances and late nights and arguments that sounded far too much like flirting. Harry hated losing control. You loved taking it from him.

Tonight, neither of you seemed interested in pretending anymore.

"You are unbelievably reckless," he said quietly.

"And you're staring."

His restraint snapped almost visibly.

One second there was distance between you.

The next, Harry had you against the workbench hard enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

His mouth crashed into yours, rough and angry and starving all at once.

And suddenly nothing else mattered.

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For months, it had started as a joke.

A dangerous one.

Every time someone on the team caught the way you looked at Harry Wells—really looked at him—someone would make another comment under their breath.

"Careful," Cisco had snorted once when Harry brushed past you in the cortex, your eyes following him far too long. "She's got a thing for angry scientists."

You'd nearly choked on your coffee.

Even Caitlin had laughed into her tablet while Harry glared at everyone with growing irritation. "Honestly? It would explain a lot."

Harry, naturally, hated every second of it.

"You're all children," he'd snapped, already stalking back toward his lab.

But the worst part?

They weren't entirely wrong.

Because Harry Wells was unfairly attractive when he was angry. When he was focused. When he barked orders with that sharp Earth-2 accent and shoved his glasses back up his nose in frustration. Every irritated sigh, every possessive touch against the small of your back when someone stood too close, every muttered "for God's sake" aimed in your direction only made it worse.

And Harry knew it.

That was the real problem.

"You stare," he muttered one night from across his workbench, not even looking up from the device in his hands.

You blinked innocently. "Do not."

"You do." His eyes finally lifted to yours, cold and knowing. "Like you're trying to undress me with your mind."

Heat crawled up your neck immediately. "Maybe you're just delusional."

Harry scoffed softly. "Please. I'm a genius, not delusional."

You should've walked away then.

Instead, you crossed your arms and leaned against the opposite side of the workbench. "Maybe you just like the attention."

That got his attention.

His hands stilled completely.

For a long moment, the lab went quiet except for the faint hum of machinery around you. Harry stared at you with that dangerous intensity he got sometimes—the one that made your stomach tighten.

Then he spoke, low and rough.

"You have any idea," he murmured, "how difficult you make it to concentrate around you?"

Your breath caught.

Harry set the tool down carefully, far too carefully, before stepping closer.

"You hover around my lab in those tiny little skirts," he continued, voice sharp with restraint. "You look at me like you want something." Another step. "And every time someone makes one of those ridiculous comments, you blush."

"I do not blush."

"You're blushing right now."

Damn him.

You looked away first, and Harry immediately noticed.

Of course he did.

A smugness flickered briefly across his face before it vanished beneath something darker.

"You know what I think?" he said quietly.

"What?"

"I think you enjoy the idea of belonging to someone."

The words hit harder than they should have.

Harry stepped into your space fully now, one hand planting beside you on the workbench.

"And I think," he continued, voice dropping lower, "you especially enjoy the idea of belonging to me."

Your pulse throbbed violently.

Because the worst part wasn't that he was teasing you.

It was that Harry Wells had figured you out months ago. You crushed on him like a 6th grader.

The accusation hung in the air, sharp and undeniable. Harry's eyes bore into yours, searching for the crack in your composure he knew was there. The hum of the lab equipment seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the sound of your own heartbeat hammering against your ribs.

You finally broke, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. "Fine. You're right."

Harry's expression didn't change, but you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, perhaps? Or satisfaction.

"You're not just a joke to me, Harry," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. "You never were. When Cisco and Caitlin make those comments, it's not because it's funny. It's because they see it too."

You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze fully. "I have feelings for you. Real ones. And yes, maybe I do enjoy the idea of belonging to someone—specifically, belonging to you. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Harry's jaw tightened slightly. He studied your face for a long moment, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken possibilities.

"You're from Earth-2," you added softly. "You're not supposed to be here. You're not supposed to matter this much."

Something shifted in Harry's eyes then—a softening you rarely saw. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing your jawline.

"I know," he said quietly. "And I know I've been... difficult. Arrogant. Insufferable, according to some."

A small smile touched your lips despite yourself.

"But I've noticed you too," Harry continued, his voice dropping to that low intensity that made your stomach flutter. "I've noticed the way you challenge me. The way you don't back down when I'm being an ass. The way you look at me when you think no one's watching."

He stepped closer, his hand moving from your jaw to cup the back of your neck. "I've wanted to ask you out for months, but I wasn't sure if it was just... this tension between us, or if there was something more."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"Have dinner with me," Harry said, his eyes searching yours. "Not here. Not as colleagues. Just us."

You nodded, unable to form words.

Harry's thumb stroked gently against your neck. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes," you finally managed to say. "That's definitely a yes."

A genuine smile transformed Harry's face, making him look years younger and somehow even more handsome. "Good. Because I've been wanting to do this for a very long time."

He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. You didn't. When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and questioning at first, then deepening into something more certain, more promising. It wasn't the demanding kiss you'd imagined in your fantasies, but something better—real.

When he pulled back, Harry rested his forehead against yours. "Friday night? Seven o'clock?"

You nodded again, a wide smile spreading across your face. "Friday. Seven."

"Good," Harry murmured, his thumb still stroking the sensitive skin behind your ear. "Now, before I do something irresponsible in my lab, you should probably go. Before I forget I'm supposed to be a genius who can control himself around you."

You laughed softly, pulling back reluctantly. "I'll see you Friday, Harry."

As you walked away from his lab, you could feel his eyes on you, and for the first time, you didn't care who noticed.

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I'm rewatching The Flash for the millionth time. 

And I LOVE the relationship that Harry and Cecile developed while she was pregnant in Season 4. 

Like he softens up for her in a way that makes my heart melt every time.

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For months, it had been an ongoing argument between you and Harry.

Not a serious one.

At least, that's what you both pretended.

"You absolutely have a breeding kink," Harry said flatly one evening, not even looking up from the tablet in his hands. Dinner was finished and you sat down with some ice cream and book. 

You nearly dropped the spoon you were holding. "Excuse me?"

Now he looked up, completely unimpressed. "You heard me."

"Oh my God," you laughed incredulously, heat already rushing into your face. "You cannot just say things like that so casually."

Harry hummed, turning back to the kitchen table work like he hadn't just detonated a bomb in the middle of a quiet evening. "I'm simply making an observation."

"You're insane."

"No, I'm observant."

You rolled your eyes hard enough to hurt. "And what exactly makes you think that?"

That dangerous little smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth immediately.

"You like being pinned down."

Your mouth opened.

Closed.

Harry continued before you could recover.

"You get that look every time I grab your hips." He set the tablet down slowly, watching your reaction far too closely. "You melt when I tell you what to do." Another step closer. "And every time I finish inside you, you act like you've achieved enlightenment."

Your entire body went hot.

"Harry—"

"And," he added smoothly, "you once asked me what our children would look like."

He was standing above you now, leaning down with both hands on either side of your head. 

You body was on fire. Remembering that less than 12 hours ago, you and Harry looked just like this is bed, hands above your head while he rolled his hips into you and called you his "pretty girl."

"That was hypothetical!"

"You asked what color their eyes would be."

"Because you have pretty eyes!"

Harry actually laughed then—quiet, low, unbearably smug.

"Mm. Sure."

You shoved at his shoulder, mortified. "You're impossible."

"And yet," he murmured, catching your wrist before you could pull away, "you keep proving my point."

That became the routine after that.

Any little slip earned a comment from him.

You lingered too long watching him work? Breeding kink.

You got flustered when he called you "good girl" under his breath? Breeding kink.

You absentmindedly mentioned that his hands would make pretty babies?

"Jesus Christ," Harry muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. "You're never beating the allegations."

The worst part was how insufferingly smug he became about it.

Especially because he knew exactly what it did to you.

"You started this," you accused one night while sitting on the edge of his workbench.

Harry glanced up from whatever impossible device he was building. "Started what?"

"The breeding kink accusations."

"Accusations imply I'm incorrect."

You threw a balled-up paper at him.

Harry caught it easily without even looking.

"You're proving my point again," he said dryly.

"You're the one who keeps bringing it up!"

"Because your reactions are entertaining."

"You're unbelievable."

"No," Harry said, finally standing and stepping between your knees where you sat perched on the workbench. "What's unbelievable is the fact that you still blush every single time."

Your breath caught immediately when his hands settled on your thighs.

Harry noticed.

Of course he did.

That smugness faded into something darker as his thumbs stroked slowly against your skin.

"See?" he murmured. "There it is again."

Your pulse jumped.

"Harry..."

"What?" His voice dropped lower. "You gonna tell me I'm wrong?"

The look in his eyes made your stomach tighten dangerously.

Because lately the jokes didn't feel much like jokes anymore.

And judging by the way Harry was staring at you now, he'd realized that too. He was gonna prove his point somewhere, somehow. 

One late night at the lab between a string of petty robberies you and Barry had spent most the night stopping. 

Harry Wells had you bent over his workbench, your sweatshirt pushed up around your waist while he drove into you from behind. His precision was there—each thrust calculated, controlled—but tonight there was an edge of desperation beneath it.

"Harry," you managed, fingers scrabbling against the cool metal surface. "I want... I want you to finish inside me."

The change was instantaneous. His rhythm faltered for just a second before his movements turned rough, urgent. "What did you say?" he growled against your neck.

"I want you to come inside me," you repeated, louder this time. "Please."

Harry's restraint shattered. His thrusts became sharper, deeper, his grip bruising on your hips as he angled you to take him completely. "Fuck," he gritted out, his voice raw with need. "You shouldn't say things like that to me."

When you pushed back against him, meeting his increasingly erratic rhythm, he groaned raggedly against your shoulder.

"Don't you dare pull out," you begged, reaching back to tangle your fingers in his hair. "Please, Harry."

His hands clamped your thighs tighter, spreading you wider as his pace became punishing. 

The workbench scraped against your palms with each forceful thrust, but you barely registered the discomfort over the pleasure building inside you.

"Look at you," he rasped, one hand sliding around to your stomach, pressing down as if he could already feel himself filling you. "Taking me so well. So fucking perfect."

His control was completely gone now, reduced to instinct and need. When he finally came, it was with a guttural cry that vibrated through your entire body. He stayed buried deep inside you, his weight pressing you into the workbench as he emptied himself.

Harry watched, panting heavily, as he slowly withdrew and saw his release beginning to spill out of you. "Jesus Christ," he swore softly, the sight clearly affecting him more than he'd ever admit.

Before you could move, he was pushing back into you, slow and deliberate this time. "Not done yet," he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice thick with possessiveness. "Not nearly done."

Later, tangled in the sheets of his bed, Harry held you in silence. His arms were wrapped around you with an intensity that bordered on desperate, his face buried in your hair. He didn't speak, but you could feel it in every touch—obsession, possession, a need to claim that went far beyond physical desire.

"You okay?" you finally asked, turning in his arms.

He just tightened his grip, pressing a hard kiss to your temple. "You definitely have a breeding kink" he laughed loudly. 

You narrowed your eyes, jokingly pushing him off you and attempting to roll away. To which he grabbed your hips protectively and pulled you right back to him. 

"Where you goin'?" He asked between laughs. "I gotta give you my babies again so you can see what they look like" 

"I hate you" you roll your eyes. 

"No, you love me" he said before climbing on top of you and kissing you softly. 

"I love you" you confirm kissing him back. 

"Let me breed you some more" Harry said between kisses, his excitement already pressing against your thigh. Your face was hot, already getting excited.

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The soft hum of machinery filled STAR Labs as you tiptoed through the corridors. 

A late night robbery left everyone going home later than expected. You and Barry took turns as "speedster on duty". And this week was your shift. 

Harry usually went home with you, tonight he stayed later, promising to be home within an hour or two of you leaving. 

You went home and fell asleep on the couch, changing into sweats and Harry's shirt before you fell asleep. 

You awoke again around 2:30 and realized he never did come home. You sped off to the lab. 

You knew exactly where to find him—still at his workstation, muttering to himself over some piece of technology that probably made sense only to his brilliant mind.

Harry sat hunched over his desk, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing those muscular forearms you'd always admired. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and his brow furrowed in concentration as he adjusted something on the circuit board before him.

"Still at it?" you murmured, approaching quietly.

He didn't look up, just grunted in response. "Almost got it. What're you doing back? I thought you went home"

"I did but I couldn't sleep without you" You replied and smiled to yourself, sliding behind his chair. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and you pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck. "You need a break."

His body tensed instantly. "What are you—"

Your hands began to wander, one tracing patterns on his chest while the other slid lower, down toward his waistband.

"(Y/N)..." he growled your name, but there was a warning edge to his voice that only made you bolder.

When your fingers brushed against the button of his jeans, he finally reacted. With a frustrated grunt, Harry spun his chair around, dragging you into his lap in one swift motion.

"You're distracting me," he muttered, but his icy blue eyes told a different story.

His calloused hands gripped your thighs like he was claiming territory, nails biting into your skin through your jeans. The slight sting sent a jolt straight through you.

"I know," you admitted. "You like it"

"I love it" he whispered, leaning in to capture your lips.

The kiss was rough from the start—all teeth and tongue and desperation. Harry's touch was needy, his grip hard as if he didn't realize his own strength. His hands roamed up your back, tangling in your hair while the other gripped your waist tightly.

"God, what are you doing to me?" he muttered against your lips when you ground against him.

You felt his reaction immediately, hardening beneath you. A string of curses escaped his lips as his hands forced you closer, almost crushing you against his chest.

His touch was electric, fingertips calloused and warm as they slipped up under your shirt. The roughness of his hands against your skin made you shiver with anticipation.

"You started this," he reminded you, his voice husky with desire.

When you slipped your hand between your bodies, palming him through his jeans, his head fell back with a strangled groan. The sight of him—vulnerable, lost in pleasure—made your own arousal spike.

"Harry," you breathed, fumbling with his zipper.

He helped you, lifting his hips enough to push his jeans down. You wrapped your hand around him, and his eyes fluttered shut.

"Fuck," he muttered, his hips thrusting into your grip.

His control was slipping, and you loved it. The normally composed scientist was unraveling beneath you, all because of your touch.

Harry's hands were everywhere—under your shirt, unhooking your bra, cupping your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you arched into his touch with a soft cry.

"Too many clothes," he growled, pulling your shirt over your head in one swift motion.

You helped him discard your bra, then leaned back in for another kiss. This one was slower, deeper, but no less intense. 

His tongue explored your mouth as his hands explored your body.

"I want you," you whispered against his lips.

He didn't need to be told twice. Harry lifted you slightly, positioning himself at your entrance. 

You sank down slowly, taking him in inch by inch. Both of you moaned at the sensation—full, overwhelming, perfect.

You began to move, finding a rhythm that had Harry cursing under his breath. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you, claiming you with every thrust.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough.

You met his gaze, dark and intense and filled with raw desire. 

His pupils were dilated, his lips parted as he watched you ride him.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his thumb brushing against your clit.

The added stimulation made you cry out, your movements becoming more frantic. Harry matched your pace, thrusting up to meet you as you came down.

The pressure built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. Your orgasm crashed over you, waves of pleasure so intense you saw stars behind your closed eyes.

Harry followed soon after, his grip on you tightening almost painfully as he found his release. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he shuddered against you.

For a moment, you stayed like that—wrapped in each other's arms, the only sounds in the lab your ragged breathing and the soft hum of machinery.

"Wow," you finally managed to say.

Harry chuckled, the vibration sending another shiver through you. "Yeah."

He lifted his head, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "I should get distracted more often."

You smiled, tracing the line of his jaw. "Anytime."

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I can't get past the fact that Harry likes to act all dommy and shit. 

But inside he's just a sub. 

Like come here lil guy. Lemme rub your head and give you head pats. 

He's like a puppy 

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You were injured severely in the middle of a mission. Knocked unconscious and losing mass amounts of blood before Barry could even get to you.

Joe and Barry made direct eye contact. An unspoken conversation between them. Joe giving a sharp nod in confirmation before Barry carefully scooped you into his arms and sped toward STAR Labs.

"She's losing a lot of blood, guys," Barry said breathlessly as he placed you onto the crash cart. 

Your suit was practically soaked through. Crimson staining Barry's hands and forearms from how tightly he held pressure to your side.

"Blood type?" Cisco asked hurriedly as Caitlin ripped open medical cabinets.

"AB positive," Caitlin answered immediately after glancing at your file.

"Meaning she can take blood from—" Barry started.

"Anyone," Harry cut in sharply from across the cortex.

Everyone turned toward him at once.

He was already rolling his sleeve up before he even reached the med bay.

Barry had done the same, already stripped out of his suit and into a STAR Labs sweatshirt as Caitlin prepped transfusion equipment.

"Harry..." Cisco started carefully. "You don't share the same blood type."

"She can take blood from anyone," Harry repeated coldly as he tied the tourniquet around his arm.

"No, Harry," Caitlin corrected gently while sticking Barry with an IV needle. "She can take blood from anyone on Earth-1."

The room went silent.

Harry froze for half a second before his face twisted with pure fury.

Not at Caitlin.

At the situation.

At the universe.

At himself.

His jaw clenched so hard it looked painful. He ripped his glasses off and dragged both hands down his face harshly enough to leave his skin red.

"There has to be a workaround," he snapped immediately. "A cellular bypass, molecular reconstruction, literally anything—"

"She needs compatible blood, Harry," Caitlin interrupted firmly. "Not a science experiment."

His icy blue eyes darted toward you unconscious on the table. Pale. Barely breathing. Blood still staining the sheets beneath you despite Caitlin's efforts.

For the first time in a long time, Harry Wells looked terrified.

"She stopped breathing for 11 seconds," Barry said quietly from the chair beside you.

Harry's head snapped toward him. "What?"

"On the way here." Barry swallowed hard. "Only for a few seconds but—"

Harry turned away instantly. Both hands bracing against the med table as he dropped his head.

Cisco looked away awkwardly. Caitlin pretended to focus on your IVs.

Because nobody had ever seen Harry like this before.

Not over anyone.

Hours later, you awoke to a quiet Cortex.

The overhead lights had been dimmed. The usual chaos of STAR Labs replaced with the soft hum of computers and distant electricity buzzing through the pipeline.

Everyone had gone home for the night after Caitlin confirmed your levels had stabilized. Your injuries already healing rapidly thanks to your abilities.

Harry stayed.

Of course he did.

He had removed the IV from your arm at some point and allowed you to sleep in the crash cart rather than wake you unnecessarily. Caitlin estimating your injuries would heal fully within a few more hours.

Your head pounded slightly as you slowly sat up. The heart monitor beside you beeped quietly in rhythm with your pulse.

You glanced around the empty cortex before carefully disconnecting yourself from the monitor attached to your chest. Turning the machine off before the warning beeps could get too loud.

Your sock covered feet padded quietly against the floor as you made your way toward Harry's old quarters.

The door was halfway open.

Harry sat against the headboard with his reading glasses perched low on his nose, some scientific journal open in his lap that he clearly hadn't actually been reading. A half empty cup of coffee rested forgotten on the bedside table beside him.

The sound of your footsteps immediately pulled his attention upward.

His icy blue eyes met yours instantly softening at the sight of you standing there half asleep wearing one of his t shirts over your medical bandages.

"Hey, pretty girl," he whispered immediately.

Your chest tightened.

You walked toward him without a word and climbed directly into his lap. Straddling him sleepily in the same way a tired child crawled toward comfort after a nightmare.

Harry's arms wrapped around you instantly. Tight. Possessive. Like if he let go for even a second you'd disappear again.

"Hi baby," you whispered back softly against his neck.

He smelled like coffee, expensive cologne, and static from the cortex. Familiar. Safe.

His hand slid carefully beneath your sweatshirt to rest against your lower back. Gentle enough that it almost hurt worse.

"How do you feel?" he murmured quietly.

"Tired," you admitted honestly. "Hungry too."

Harry huffed softly through his nose. Something between amusement and relief.

"Barry bought you Capri Suns and your favorite chips," he said quietly. "Wanna go get them?"

You nodded against his shoulder.

Without hesitation Harry stood up with you still wrapped around him. One arm hooked securely beneath your thighs while the other steadied your back.

"You know I can walk, right?" you mumbled sleepily.

"I'm aware."

"Hare."

"You almost died today. I'm carrying you."

You rolled your eyes slightly but melted further into him anyway.

The warm cortex lights reflected softly against the floor as he carried you toward the common area.

Harry gently sat you on the counter before grabbing the Capri Sun from the fridge and punching the straw through the pouch for you before handing it over.

You smiled weakly around the straw. "You know I can do that myself, right?"

"I'm aware," he muttered, leaning back against the counter across from you. "Humor me."

The fluorescent lights above the cortex cast soft shadows beneath his eyes. He looked exhausted. Hair messy. Sleeves rolled up unevenly. His glasses sat abandoned beside the coffee maker instead of on his face.

That's when you noticed the dried blood on his hands.

Your expression faltered.

"Harry..."

He glanced down like he'd forgotten it was there. "It's not mine."

"I know that."

Silence stretched between you.

You slowly lowered the drink. "You tried to give me your blood."

His jaw tightened immediately.

"Hare—"

"You needed blood."

"I would've died."

The words hit him harder than anything else had all night.

His face twisted slightly before he looked away from you entirely, shoulders going rigid. "Don't say that."

"But it's true."

"No." He snapped it instantly. Too fast. Too emotional for someone like him. "No, it wasn't going to happen."

You watched him carefully.

Harry Wells was many things. Brilliant. Angry. Cold when he wanted to be. But fear looked horrible on him.

Because he never showed it unless it was real.

"You were scared," you whispered.

"I was furious."

"At who?"

"Everyone." His voice sharpened. "The meta. Joe for letting you go in first. Barry for not getting to you faster. Caitlin because she wouldn't let me help. Myself because I should've been there—"

"Baby, You can't protect me from everything."

His eyes finally met yours again.

"I can try, (y/n)"

The sincerity in his voice nearly broke you.

You set the drink down beside you and held your hand out toward him silently.

Harry stared at it for a second before stepping between your knees. His large hands immediately settled on your waist like muscle memory. Like he needed the contact to breathe properly.

"I'm okay," you whispered again.

"You stopped breathing for 11 seconds."

Your breath caught.

Harry swallowed hard, eyes fixed somewhere over your shoulder now.

"Barry got you here in time," he continued quietly. "But for eleven seconds your heart rate dropped and you just..." He stopped speaking, jaw flexing harshly.

You reached up slowly, cupping his cheek.

He leaned into your palm instinctively.

"I'm still here."

His eyes shut.

For a moment he just stood there holding you against him, forehead dropping to your shoulder. The great Harrison Wells—genius, inventor, arrogant pain in the ass—completely unraveling in silence against you where nobody else could see.

"You know what the worst part was?" he murmured against your neck.

"What?"

"They kept telling me to stay back."

You huffed a tiny laugh through the emotion clogging your throat. "Because you were yelling at doctors."

"They were being incompetent."

"They were saving my life."

"They were moving too slowly."

You smiled softly. "There he is."

Harry finally looked up at you again, expression exhausted but softer now.

"I hate when you get hurt."

"I know."

"You terrified me."

"I know."

His hands tightened around your waist.

"You don't get to do that again."

You laughed quietly. "I'll do my best."

"That's not reassuring."

"It's the job description, baby."

He sighed heavily, but some of the tension finally cracked. His thumb brushed gently beneath the hem of the oversized STAR Labs sweatshirt you were wearing.

"You should still be resting."

"I was resting."

"You walked here."

"You carried me."

"That's different."

"Because you said so?"

"Exactly."

You rolled your eyes affectionately before taking another sip of your drink.

Harry watched you carefully the entire time. Like he still expected you to disappear if he looked away too long.

Then, quieter this time—

"I meant it, you know."

You tilted your head. "What?"

"If it worked..." He glanced down at his own arm where the discarded tourniquet marks still faintly remained. "I would've given every drop."

Your expression softened painfully.

"Honey..."

"And before you say anything," he interrupted, "yes, I'm aware that would've killed me. That wasn't the point."

The quiet hum of the cortex filled the silence again.

You reached for him immediately, pulling him back between your knees until his forehead rested against yours.

"You're stuck with me," you whispered.

His lips brushed yours softly. Barely there.

"Good," he whispered back.

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Harry slammed the tablet down onto the kitchen counter hard enough to make you jump.

"Unbelievable," he snapped, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Every single time I leave that Earth alone for more than twenty-four hours, something explodes."

You leaned against the couch quietly, watching him pace your apartment kitchen in nothing but a black button down with the sleeves rolled messily to his elbows. 

He'd been angry since he got home. Not at you — never really at you — but the irritation radiating off him was enough to make the entire apartment feel tense.

"Harry..." you said softly.

"What?"

His tone was sharp instantly, but the second he looked at you, some of the anger eased from his face.

You walked toward him slowly. "You've been pacing for like an hour."

"Because Jesse and half the engineers on Earth-2 apparently share one collective brain cell."

A laugh almost escaped you. Almost.

Harry pointed at you accusingly. "Don't encourage them."

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"You were absolutely going to say something, (y/n), I know you."

You smiled a little before stepping closer, your hands sliding gently up his chest. Beneath your palms, you could feel how tense he still was.

Harry exhaled slowly through his nose.

"You're stressed," you murmured.

"Brilliant observation."

"Grumpy too."

"I'm always grumpy."

"That's true."

Harry rolled his eyes, but his hands automatically settled on your waist anyway.

You tilted your head slightly, studying him for a moment before your expression softened.

"You know..." you said quietly, fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt, "I might know something that would help your mood."

Harry's eyes narrowed immediately.

"And what exactly are you implying?"

You stepped even closer until his back lightly hit the counter.

"Maybe," you whispered, "you should stop thinking for five minutes."

Harry looked at you for a long moment. His jaw flexed slightly beneath the dim kitchen light.

"...You are a dangerous distraction."

"Mm. But I'm your dangerous distraction."

That finally pulled the faintest smirk from him.

Harry's hand slid up your back slowly before he leaned down, his forehead resting briefly against yours.

"You have terrible timing," he muttered quietly.

"And yet," you smiled softly, "you love me anyway."

His expression softened completely then — exhaustion, irritation, and affection all mixing together in a way only you ever got to see.

"...Unfortunately."

You laughed quietly before kissing him, slow and warm, and for the first time since he'd gotten home, Harry finally stopped thinking about Earth-2 entirely.

Your fingers continued their slow work on his shirt buttons, one by one revealing the warm skin beneath. 

Harry watched you, his breathing already beginning to even out as your touch worked its magic.

"Let me take care of you," you murmured against his lips before sinking to your knees.

Harry's breath hitched as you looked up at him from the floor, your hands now working on his belt buckle. His hands came to rest on the counter behind him, knuckles white as he gripped the edge.

"You don't have to—" he started, but you cut him off.

"I want to."

You freed him from his pants, your eyes never leaving his as you took him in hand. 

Harry's head fell back against the cabinet with a soft thud, his entire body trembling slightly as you leaned forward.

Your tongue traced patterns along his length, teasing and exploring until he was fully hard and leaking. 

Harry's responses were music to your ears—soft gasps, whispered curses, and the way his thighs tensed beneath your touch.

You took him into your mouth, starting with just the tip, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head. 

Harry's fingers tangled in your hair, not pushing, just holding on as you began to work him deeper.

"God," he breathed, his hips making small, involuntary movements. "You're... incredible."

You hollowed your cheeks, creating that perfect suction as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each downward motion. Your hand worked in tandem with your mouth, stroking what you couldn't yet accommodate.

Harry's breathing became more ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you increased your pace. 

You looked up at him, watching the expressions of pleasure cross his face—his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth slightly parted, a flush spreading across his chest.

You varied your technique, sometimes focusing on long, slow strokes that had him trembling, other times taking him deep and fast until he was gasping your name. Your free hand cupped his balls, gently massaging them as you continued your oral assault.

"I'm close," Harry warned, his voice strained.

Instead of pulling back, you doubled your efforts, taking him as deep as you could, your nose pressing against his pelvic bone. You swallowed around him, the sensation pushing him over the edge.

When he came, it was with your name on his lips, his body shuddering with release as you swallowed everything he gave you. You continued to gently suck and lick him through his orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until he was completely spent.

You stayed there for a moment, resting your cheek against his thigh as he recovered, his hand still stroking your hair.

"Come here," Harry said finally, his voice rough as he helped you to your feet.

He kissed you deeply, his hands framing your face as he poured all his gratitude and affection into the embrace.

"Thank you," he murmured against your lips. "I needed that."

"I know," you smiled, running your fingers through his now-disheveled hair. "That's why I'm here."

Harry pulled you flush against him, his arms wrapping around your waist. "I love you."

"I love you too," you replied, feeling the last of his tension melt away completely.

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"Twin bitches, twin Dracs, Twin Glocks, twin jets"

"Photoshoot?" Harry asked as you laid his suit out in front of him. 

"For the wedding, now, put it on. I have cool positions planned out" you kissed him. You baby pink dress fluttering around you. 

"No wedding dress?" he asked. 

"Bad luck, Harry" you hum before leaving the room. 

"I don't believe in that" he muttered.

Later 

"Okay, so I got us-" you say as you graced two black boxes from your bag."

"Twin Glocks. Husband and Wife edition" 

"Oh my fuck, (y/n)" Harry chuckled briefly. 

"What?" you say with a grin. 

"Twin Glocks?" harry repeated. 

"Husband and wife edition" you winked. You held the unloaded gun down at your side. 

Harry grabbed your hips and pulled you close to him. 

"How's this for a photo?" he whispered before dipping you down and kissing you. "You gonna let play with you later?" Harry whispered in your ear as the photographer moved around you. 

"I wish you'd play with me now" you said back. 

"You holding that sends chills up my spine" Harry said, nipping your ear. 

"I'll point it at you" you smirked.

"Promise?" Harry chuckled. 

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