#jess⚡️

[stargirlfics]

hello gorgeous friend, stopping by ask - what do you think Alfred’s love languages are (for both giving and receiving?) I always love your thots and ideas so much (and I hope your day has been good to you!! 💖)

Hi, J!! You are so sweet and I hope the day treats you well also! 💌 Love you sm!

Omg now as for love languages?! I loveee thinking about Alfred’s! To me he’s a character that has a lot of love to give under the surface and loves the people that he does with his whole heart so I have some thoughts about this let’s go

GIVING

Acts of Service

This one for sure. Alfred notices the little things and would quickly get accustomed to all your routine’s, finding that he doesn’t mind going out of his way to do things that make your daily life easier even if it’s something small. If he can take some of the stress and workload off you, he’s all about it and likes doing things for you so that you can focus on having time for yourself or just to have one less thing to do or worry about!

You know that he’s always someone you can count on to help you with a task or getting something done, he’s handy and likes to feel useful and it makes him happy to know you feel that he can help you with anything 💕

Physical Touch

This one is more unassuming for Alfred because he’s so polite and respectful outwardly, always the gentleman figure and very proper so one would think he wouldn’t have much of a thing for showing affection physically and he is more reserved with PDA but when it’s just you and him in the privacy of home, he is ALL OVER YOU and nobody can change my mind!

Alfred is a cuddler end of story. I really do think he would want to have you close to him a lot of the time. Lots of passing touches and kisses, lots of bids for connection and he simply can’t say no when you ask for a hug or for him to hold you for a bit 🥺 he likes to hold your hand and doesn’t even really notice just how much he reaches for you when you’re near, the domesticity of it is where it’s at for him

RECEIVING

Quality Time

I think is Alfred’s main love language. Maybe he always feels a little bit like he doesn’t ever get enough time with the people he cares about which is a circle that is so few to begin with so he really cherishes any time he gets to spend with loved ones.

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing or what’s going on, as long as you’re together and he gets to be next to you sharing space, he’s going to be happy. There’s a lot of things in his life he deems important and one of those things is prioritizing time to spend with you, it’s like he needs it especially when he’s having a busy week

Spending time with you is his way of winding down and decompressing. There’s so much comfort in this love language for him!

Words of Affirmation

I also think he likes a bit of this one also. He would probably say he’s not the best at talking or knowing what to say especially when it comes to relationships (these are silly old man self doubts though) so I think it would be a gentle reminder or source of comfort for him to receive words of affirmation from a partner.

He finds it to be an anchoring point for him, your opinions and encouragements, reassurances too are something he comes back to frequently and he just loves hearing nice things from you, it can really make his whole day!

Please the way I am so soft thinking about this now ahhh, thank you for asking this cause I loved exploring it! And thank you for always loving my ideas for him, my friend! 💓

[celestianstars]

Trick or Treat lovely friend! I hope you have an amazing Halloween! 🎃 A little 👻 Q for you - If you could be any Halloween creature for a day, who/what would you be?

Happy Halloween!! 🎃🌙🖤 it’s been a good one thank you and same to you I hope it’s been a wonderfully spooky holiday my friend!

I had to think about this for a second cause there’s so many creatures I’d want to be for a day and the first that comes to mind is a vampire 🤭 like can you imagine that would be so wild it would be cool to get a little taste (oop pun intended) but I think I have to actually go with a witch! Just give me the ability to do sorcery and a cool witchy outfit, I’m all set

Minding my business I would be such a cozy witch making potions and tending to all my animal familiars and I could practice casting charms and spells in my enchanted corner of the woods…yeah I think I would have to go with that!

[celestianstars]

Losing my breath while reading this ahhh, J! Your words are always so lovely and steamy in this case and I’m swooning over Logan and how he handles her 🥵😍 “Cant do it wrong,” He croons, “It was made for you, sweetheart.” This feels so special and hot af, there’s so much respect but desire too it’s sO good my friend!! Thinking of being made for him….ohhh I am in love!

— burning slow

logan howlett x inexperienced!f!reader

rated e - 1.2k

tags: reader is nervous but excited about sex, soft!logan, dual pov, touching, feelings, hint of an innocence kink, oral sex, fingering, PiV

an expansion of this lovely ask, because I couldn’t stop thinking about it 💕

The exchange is fluid, shifting between you. How you call every shot, his fingers and tongue working you until you cry out. More. Harder. Faster. There, Logan. Please-

Brought back to him in the way you place your pleasure in his hands, wrapped around fingers that crook deep. Wrenching you to a peak that leaves you trembling - his voice a low croon as your cries are muffled into your pillow.

Logan bites back a groan at the shift of your hips. How you grind down almost unconsciously, letting him angle your eager mouth against his. The sound slipping free from his throat when your fingers tighten in his hair.

It’s not the first time his mouth has met yours.

Stolen moments around the grounds, always leaving him wanting more. Leaving you with eyes half-lidded and lips kiss-swollen, and it’s impossible not to image them elsewhere. Mapping out each and every inch of him.

But it’s the first time he’s had you alone. Entwined fingers as you sneak him into your room - as if you were both students. His back pressed against the headboard as your thighs spread wide to straddle him.

The hitch in your breath, as you feel him beneath you. A thick curve of desire, pressed snug against your core. His own need a low pulse in his guts, a rhythmic lift of his hips to meet the downward rock of your own.

A rough sound that he swallows, as his hand slips up to cup your breast - your soft flesh molding to his broad palm. There’s the kick of your heart, rabbiting behind your ribs. Your scent threatening to overwhelm him.

Clinging to you, where it settles between your thighs. Where you meet him meet, a low whine as you grind down just a little harder. He did this to you. He'll do more - if you let him.

Sighing into the soft brush of your tongue against his, his thumb sweeping against the stiff peak. A moan that he swallows - pretty, as it slips from you.

He wants to hear more. Wants you to cry his name so loudly, you won't be able to look at Scott tomorrow.

Something shifts, when his hands dip low. Fingers tracing against skin as they slip beneath your shirt. A thumb hooking around the waistband of your leggings, gently tugging.

His nose twitches, as something about you changes. How you stiffen in his arms, the needy rock of your hips going still.

“‘s wrong, baby?” It’s slips from him, rough and low - his pupils blown wide and dark.

There's a shine to your lips, where his tongue traced them. Pressing together as your eyes drop, teeth sinking into flesh.

“I’m just-“ You start, searching for words, “Nervous. Haven’t done this before. Not that. I’ve done that."

A breath, "Just not like this-”

“I mean, you’re-”, The rest comes out breathless, with the slow sweep of your eyes, “It's just, a lot."

Your words, how sweet they are - the nervous hunger and curiosity in your expression - shoots straight through him. His jeans tight enough to ache - he has to resist the urge to rut up into you.

A sharply-inhaled breath, as he tries come back to himself.

Fuck.

Your nerves spike, as his eyes close. Worried he’ll think you’re silly - that he won't understand - but that’s only until you hear the noise it pulls from him.

Almost a growl, as his fingers pinch into your skin.

Only a heartbeat passing until he eases you off of him. The rejection stings - leaving you tripping over your words, “I-I don’t want to stop, Logan-”

But he only stretches out on your bed. The flex of muscles as he settles. A hand extended towards you, beckoning.

“I know, baby," Loga rasps, "Just gonna take it slow, alright?”

It soothes you, as you fold yourself against him. The careful mapping of fingers, as he matches each piece of clothes that are peeled from you. Letting you set the pace - biting back groans as your touch trails across his skin. Seconds bleeding into minutes, and then more.

You own sounds louder, when his mouth drags from your neck down to your sternum. Tounge tracing the tight peaks of your nipples - your shirt long peeled from you. Equal time spent learning the soft curves, until it’s your hand reaching between you - down to where he presses stiff and hard against your thigh.

Cupping him, feeling the weight against your palm. The heat that rolls of him, his breath a harsh pant against your skin as your fingers skate up his length.

A sharp inhale that hisses past your teeth, when they try to wrap around. A hesitation he can feel.

“I don’t-” You’re not sure how to touch him. Not sure if you can take him - a rough murmur in your ear as he kisses at your throat.

“Cant do it wrong,” He croons, “It was made for you, sweetheart.”

A ragged breath, as you try. His hand curving to fit yours, showing you how to stroke him. A heat flickering in your belly, when he grits out, "Fuck. Just like that, baby."

Logan's hips jerking into your touch. The sound it pulls from him, making your skin prickle with pleasure.

It feels like a triumph.

You’re soaked through, by the time he finally touches you.

The soft swirl of his fingers, so much thicker than your own. A little rougher than you are with yourself, but it feel right.

Feels good - when first one, and then another - press inside you. Teeth sinking into your your palm to muffle your whines, when he settles between your thighs.

The exchange is fluid, shifting between you. How you call every shot, his fingers and tongue working you until you cry out.

More. Harder. Faster. There, Logan. Please-

Brought back to him in the way you place your pleasure in his hands, wrapped around fingers that crook deep. Wrenching you to a peak that leaves you trembling - his voice a low croon as your cries are muffled into your pillow.

Ones that slip from you, when the ripples of pleassure ease. Smoothing across your thigh as he hovers above you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” It’s rasped out, with the soft curl of a smile.

The slight crease of a frown when you reach for him. Fingers fitting around his hard length, tilting your hips to meet his. A rough, inhaled breath as he protests, even as he leaks against your skin.

“Don’t have to, sweetheart.”

“I know,” You sigh, as the velvet length skates across your folds. An urge to feel what else he can give you.

“Want more. Want you.”

He takes it slow.

Lets you feel every inch that notches inside you. His jaw set as he works himself deep. Shallow rolls of his hips until you’re urging him for more - his teeth flashing white in the dim room as his pace picks up, giving you what you need.

You think he must like it - the way you beg, his cock slick with your need - with the way he leans down to kiss you, the age-old wood creaking beneath you with each thrust.

Praise and filth pouring from his lips - how fucking good you feel, how well you’re taking him. How you’re going to come for him again, as those fingers make practiced circles against your clit.

“One more time on my cock, baby. Come on-”

The nerves ease, until they’re no more than a memory. That tightly-wound thread burning up with the ember glow of another orgasm. Forgetting everything else, when he looks at you the way he does. The way Logan moans your name as you make him come - a rough grunt as he works himself empty inside you.

That tension sloughing off your skin in the soft afterglow - the weight of him welcome against you as your fingers card through his hair.

Because he’s right.

He was made for you.

thank you again, anon! 💖

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

⚡️ He’s Mine

He’s Mine: You have long since pined over the dark, grumpy, and stoic Harrison Wells from Earth Two, and after a fun round of drinking and a game of truth or dare, you end up stuck between a rock and a hard body er… place, hard place. So after both you and Harry get blackmailed into going to a nightclub party, things heat up when a cupcake meets an early demise at the taloned hands of a barbie wannabe. You do not like sharing your cupcakes with anyone, and you don’t like being challenged, especially by a woman who stole your cupcake, and is now setting her eyes on your object of interest: Harry.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Scenes (Unprotected Sex Is A No No), Drinking (Be Responsible).

To Note: Harry Wells x Female!Reader, Reader Has Extreme Anxiety & Long Hair For Plot Reasons.

Word Count: ~9.6k

Masterlist | Next

“No, no way. When hell freezes over, nah, nope, nein, nyet, want it in Spanish? Noh! I’ll take a pass on that, Iris,” you say, shaking your head with extended vigor and might.Iris raises an eyebrow at you while crossing her arms.

“Then I guess you’re going to have to tell him,” she replies smugly while Caitlin snickers underneath her breath.Your face flushes with heat as you start to sputter for words.Harry, who has been sitting across the room, looks up curiously at your choking sounds.Your eyes dart to Harry’s curious ones as the two women in front of you smirk in unison.

“Oh, go back to your tinkering,” you snap at him, your face now sweltering with heat.You turn back to the two cackling hyenas in front of you.Harry huffs in response and the sounds of his tinkering resume.

“NO! Absolutely not! I refuse both!”

“It’s one or the other. We all did our tasks, you have to pick, go to the party, or tell him.”You throw your hands into the air.

“Both of them are terrible!” you exclaim. “And you know how I feel about those types of things!”

“Okay!” Cisco yells from where he has been fiddling with his tablet. “I get that you three need female time and all, but I don’t think us men need to hear about your girl problems.”

The three of you turn to Cisco, who is giving you a look, and before you know it, Iris has your wrist in her grasp and is pulling you along.You nearly trip over your feet keeping up with her.

“We are going with option one by default,” Iris chirps as she drags you out of the cortex with Caitlin clicking after you in her heels.

“But I don’t have anything to wear!” you whine, trying to wiggle yourself, and your future self, out of having to go to the party tonight.

“Which is why we enlisted Jesse’s help,” Caitlin says as you near the elevator. “She managed to get her hands on some outfits that should fit you.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” you mutter lowly.

“To get you and your love life started? Absolutely,” Iris answers, flashing you a brilliant smile. “It’s obvious, and it is time we do something about it.”

“What’s obvious?” you question as the elevator starts going down. “My ineffaceable love for a man I cannot have or my unrequited love for a man fifteen years my senior?”

The elevator doors ding open just as you finish your sentence, revealing Jesse, who is dressed in jeans, a shirt, and a leather jacket.

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it unrequited, Y/N,” Jesse says, putting her hands on her hips. “I know my dad, and you have no idea how many times I’ve caught him staring at you when he thinks no one is looking. It’s actually kind of funny now that I think about, I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it.”

“He does not,” you huff as you exit the elevator. “And for the record, I do not want to be here, nor do I want to be at that party.”

“Duly noted.”

“Have I told you how much I hate you right now?” you ask as you glare at yourself in the mirror of Iris’s bedroom. You all have gone to a salon — well, you have been dragged — and gotten your hair, nails, and faces done up professionally for the night. Pampering, they call it.

In an explanation for why the party is such a big deal, it is basically a party that is held once a year at Central City’s biggest club. It is technically a party for some radical art movement, but pretty much everyone uses it as a chance to get out and party hard.

You’ve never been, and you don’t want to, but at this point in time, it’s either go and suffer for several hours where you at least have access to alcohol, or tell Harry that you have a thing for him — and have for a while. That would be permanent.

Obviously, you end up going with the first option. No need to have your heart torn in half by Harry Wells, a man notorious for not mincing his words.

“Mhm, you’ll thank me when you have men drooling over you,” Iris muses as she plays with your hair, adding a few more spritzes of hair glimmer to enhance what the stylist has already done. You have no say in how your hair is done, so your hair is currently curled and gathered into a bun with a silver pin holding everything all together.

The makeup Iris has chosen for you is bold — bright red lipstick, black glittering eyeshadow surrounding your eyes, and highlighter that will make your face glow underneath the club lights… according to Jesse. With your looks so far, it horrifies you to think of what they will force you to wear, even more so now that Caitlin has run off with your glasses.

You’ll just have to bumble around for the night.

Your short-sightedness makes things blurry, and since you are most definitely going to have heels shoved on your feet, your balance is going to be terrible. You are not a girly girl; you never dress like one, wear heels, particularly care for your looks, and you don’t have contacts because you always end up messing with them... and then poking yourself in the eye. Ouch.

You guess the girls just want to see you dressed up for once, and this is the perfect chance to do so. Crossing your arms, you keep your red lips pursed and shut as Iris sets the glitter spray down and looks over her shoulder.

“Jesse, is everything ready?” Iris asks the speedster. Jesse zips out of the room for a moment before coming back, a bag in her hands.

“All here,” she says with a smile. “Specially borrowed from a friend of mine who is the same size as Y/N.”

“I’m going to kill multiple people tonight,” you groan as Jesse bounces over with a big smile. She sets the bag down on Iris’s bed and pulls out black fishnet tights, a pair of wicked black heels with a red sole, and a metallic dress, completely covered in square rhinestones. Your eye ticks before you add, “and then myself.”

“Don’t be a drama queen,” Caitlin says as she walks over, messing with her earrings. “It’s a nightclub, lots of flashing lights, you’ll catch every eye in the venue wearing that, and those heels... even I’m jealous, those are Louboutin.”

You stare blankly at Caitlin.

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” The dress is shoved into your hands and they push you towards the bathroom. With a defeated whine on your red lips, you sulk into the bathroom to seal your fate.

It’s just for one night. It’s just for one night. It’s just for one night.

Undoing the robe you wear, you hold up the dress before sighing. Sans bra it’s going to have to be. Unclipping your bra, you let it drop to the floor before balancing on one foot and stepping into the skirt part of the dress. You pull the clinging material up your hips and over your already scandalous enough thong. The skirt of the dress stops at your lower back, leaving the front of it with its thin silver straps being the only thing to protect your modesty.

Internally groaning to yourself, you put your arms through the straps and pull the dress until it is resting on your shoulders. One look at yourself in the mirror, your cheeks are burning and you want to rip the damn thing off. The dress does indeed cover your breasts, but only just so much... as for your cleavage? Never before have you had this much. The drape neckline has a pretty good amount of cleavage, the silver fabric draping in just the right place. Everything would be perfect if you didn’t feel like the thong you wore is giving you a wedgie...

You look pretty, heck you would dare say you even look hot, but this isn’t you. This isn’t Y/N, the generic, average intelligence woman who scraped out a B plus average in college. But you have made a promise to the girls that whatever happened at game night, you would follow through, so you just have to suck this up and wait for the night to end.

A fist bangs on the door.

“I know you aren’t hiding out in that bathroom, Y/N!” Caitlin sings from outside the door. “Don’t make me come in there!”

Bending down, you gather the robe and your discarded bra before standing up and opening the door.

“Believe me,” you state blandly. “I want this night to end, so I’m not dawdling.”

 “I’m officially wondering why you are still single,” Caitlin mutters as you pass her and head back into Iris’s bedroom.

“Alright, what other monstrosities do you want me to put on?” you ask, eyeing the fishnet tights. They are black and occasionally have rhinestones embedded in them to give them an extra sparkle.

Jesse grabs the tights and swaps them for your bra and robe.“Put those on — and by the way, they’re stockings, not tights,” she says with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “They go up to your thigh. Don’t worry about garters, these have stick adhesive to keep them up.”

“Someone help me,” you moan as you sit on the edge of Iris’s bed and lift your right foot. Slipping the first stocking on your foot, you stretch out your leg, pulling the material until it reaches your upper thigh and disappears under your dress by about two inches.

“Okay,” Iris says, bounding back into her room with a bright smile. “Barry and Cisco have done their job and will meet us at the party.”

“What did you do?” you ask as you start working on the next stocking. Iris turns your way, and a large, devious smile slowly stretches across her lips.

“Oh nothing, just asked them to help with a little something the three of us have been working on,” Iris answers cheekily, and it’s at that moment a sinking feeling forms in the pit of your stomach. “You look beyond gorgeous. I know a few men who’ll appreciate that tonight.”

You huff at her before lowering your left leg and looking down at yourself. Considering that your dress is one hundred percent comprised of sparkling rhinestones, the occasional few on your fishnet stockings actually work well with the look. Reluctantly, and with a sigh, you grab the insane heels with the red sole and slip your feet into them. Setting your now heeled feet on the floor, dread fills your body at the notion of having to wear these for the rest of the night.

A promise is a promise, and you don’t break yours.

“Alright, the woman of the night is dressed, ready to break hearts, and then capture one… everyone else ready?” Jesse asks, now completely dressed up in a modest purple dress.

“Oh, one last thing,” Caitlin says before grabbing a box and opening it, revealing four thin cuffs, all black. “Cisco made these so if we lose anyone, we can track them down... and if anyone comes across a guy who doesn’t understand the word no? Well, it also has a panic button that alerts the others and can provide a pretty nasty shock if need be.”

Getting to your feet, you walk over to Caitlin and take one of the bracelets, sliding it around your wrist.

“Glad to know that the boys care,” Iris chimes before a honk outside the house can be heard. “And that’s our ride. Come on, we’ve got a night of fun ahead of us.”

Grabbing your small black clutch you had dug out of the bottom of your closet, you check to make sure you have your driver’s license, cash, one credit card, the ticket to get into the club, and your phone. Everything’s there. Slipping it onto your wrist, you follow the others out of Iris’s room.

“So we’re meeting the boys at the club. Where exactly? Since I am assuming that this place will be packed,” you ask as you pile into the taxi Iris called. “Because it’s going to be dark, crowded, and loud.”

“Barry said he and Ralph would meet us by the south bar, where the desserts will be when it gets past ten thirty,” Caitlin answers as she double-checks her lipstick using a compact mirror.

“Dessert?” you ask, perking up a bit. The three girls smirk at you, knowing full well that you love to eat all kinds of baked goods, especially cakes and cupcakes.

“Yet another reason to hang around,” Iris grins. “The food is supposed to be really good. My friend at Jitter’s says that it’s catered from a bakery here in Central City, and they go all out to keep with the artistic theme.”

“Well, I guess that means I’ll be counting the minutes until ten thirty.”

“At least try to have fun before that — maybe dance with a couple guys, have a drink?” Jesse asks, her eyes turning pleading and big.

“Drink? Yes,” you state before pressing your lips together. “Dancing? Eh, maybe, depends on the song... and how drunk I am at that point.”

Jesse groans and shakes her head, mumbling about stubborn adults not wanting to let loose and have fun, but doesn’t pester you anymore.

You all decide to get dropped off a block away since the venue will no doubt be swarmed with limos and fancy cars dropping off people who flaunt their money.

So, holding your coat close to your body, you scurry the one block to the nightclub. Or at least Iris, Jesse, and Caitlin scurry. You pretty much wobble along, your balance not exactly coordinated with your heels yet. Weaving through the throngs of chattering people, you hop in line to get into the club, holding your ticket close to your body. As you wait, it hits you.

“Wait, Caitlin — you said that Barry and Ralph are meeting us at the south bar... what about Cisco? I thought he was coming?” you ask her as you steadily move up in line.

“He is,” Caitlin replies with a nod of her chin. “He’s just taking care of something for us last minute. He’ll meet up with us when he’s done. You know he’d never miss this.”

“Yeah, he’s been talking about this for the last three months,” Jesse adds while nodding in agreement. “He’ll be here... hopefully...” she mutters the last part, which you raise your eyebrow at but don’t question.

Turning your head forward, you watch as the group of women in front of you — scantily clad, even more so than you — giggle as they are let in. Rolling your eyes, you step forward with Jesse, Iris, and Caitlin and hand your ticket over.

The bouncer working the door verifies your ticket before putting fresh ink on the stamper and stamping the back of your right hand with the fluorescent ink that will glow underneath the club lights.

“Let the party begin,” Iris says happily before taking your wrist and pulling you into the depths of the club.

Walking through the dark club, there’s a smell of alcohol, fake smoke, sweat, cologne, and perfume that seems to follow you wherever you go. The tickling sensation in your nose takes at least five minutes to go away, and by then your eyes adjust to the dark interior and you can actually see where you’re going and what’s going on.

The four of you weave through the throngs of people already gathering and chatting away, heading for the south bar, which is less crowded at this time. You make it to the bar before Barry and Ralph — not particularly surprising, considering Barry is late for everything.

You decide to look at the bar menu while the three women start gossiping together. Your eyes scan the large list of cocktails and spirits the bar is packed with, and you find yourself impressed with the selection.

Your gaze lands on a drink called the Boulevardier — made with whiskey, Campari, and sweet vermouth. It packs a wallop of alcohol in a dainty cocktail that feels perfect for a night like this. Add an orange twist and you’re sold. As soon as you can, you’re getting one in your hand and slurping up the alcohol.

“Hey!” you hear Barry call, and turning your head, you see him and Ralph walk over, wearing dressed-down suits. Barry sports a green vest that perfectly matches the sleek dress Iris squeezed herself into, while Ralph rocks a black and silver getup, complementing his alter ego’s suit. “Sorry we’re late. We got caught up in something. Cisco said he’ll be along shortly — just that one of his projects is being stubborn.”

You raise an eyebrow at the statement but think nothing of it. It doesn’t surprise you that Cisco is tinkering with his toys right up to party time. Iris smiles before walking up to her boyfriend and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“You look rather dashing, Mr. Allen,” Iris says before pulling Barry down to plant one on him. Rolling your eyes, you turn to Ralph, who’s still looking around.

“I’m surprised you gave up a night of work to come to this thing,” you comment, lips twisting into a slight smile. Ralph’s eyes meet yours, and he grins.

“You know I’m not always thinking about work,” he says as he meanders over to where you lounge against the bar top. “You look fantastic. Why don’t you dress up more often?”

“Because I don’t like to,” you answer, blatantly honest. “Not to mention I’m showing so much skin I could be mistaken for a stripper. This is uncomfortable, and my feet hurt. Brings a whole new meaning to beauty is pain.”

Ralph snorts and shakes his head.

“Believe me, you look far from a stripper,” he says, his smile growing. “We might end up pulling guys off you by the end of the night.”

“Ha!” you puff out with a small smile. “Doubtful, but whatever makes you happy, Dibny.”

Jesse comes bouncing over, latching onto Ralph and pulling him to the half-filled dance floor. Iris and Barry are still being lovey-dovey with each other, so you turn to Caitlin.

“You brought me here so I had to be subjected to those two?” you ask, jerking your thumb at your lovesick friends. Caitlin snorts before shaking her head.

“We all have to deal with it,” she says smartly, a hint of sass in her voice. “We brought you here so we could finally get it through your two thick skulls that you like each other and stop pining. Do you know how many times we wanted to lock you two in a supply closet and not let you out until you admitted your feelings? So many times...”

“What?” you ask, your eyebrows pinching together in confusion at her small rant. Caitlin takes a deep breath and brushes her wavy hair back from her face.

“Nothing, nothing. Everything will work out tonight, everything will work out,” she chants to herself before looking around. “I need a drink. Anyone want a drink?”

Without waiting for an answer, she marches off to the other end of the bar, where the bartender is cleaning glasses.

Alright, everyone is acting weird tonight — and you’re not just talking about Cisco’s sudden aversion to tacos. Something’s going on, and you’re definitely not in on it.

Huffing, you look down at the bar top and start drumming your red-painted fingernails on it. You stare at nothing in particular until Cisco’s voice chirps from your right.

“I told you I’d convince him! That transmogrification device is amazing!” Cisco exclaims just before a frighteningly familiar disgruntled sigh answers him.

Freezing in your seat, your head turns — and you see the man the disgruntled sigh came from.

Harry freaking Wells. In a freaking suit, dressed like Harrison Wells — or more accurately, Eobard Thawne — the night the particle accelerator exploded. Black slacks. White shirt, partially open at the top. Black blazer. His hair neatened up from its usual spiky, bedhead mess.

Your gut twists and does flips as you stare at him, almost slack-jawed.

The man looks unbelievably divine, albeit irritated that he’s even here, but nonetheless inhumanely handsome — and you feel yourself melting in his presence.Wait. You think you already are...

“Harry, glad to see you out of the lab!” Iris exclaims with a broad smile.

Harry grunts in return, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking around. His eyes catch yours — widen slightly as he sees your deer-in-the-headlights stare — and your entire body freezes.

Oh god, he probably thinks you look like a skank!

“Well, since we’re all here — let the party start!” Cisco crows, clapping his hands together and rubbing them gleefully.

It’s going to be a long night.

You’re on your second pink Boulevardier, feeling the effects of the alcohol and absolutely tired of telling men to leave you the hell alone. Men wanting a dance — mostly the dirty kind — have approached you at least a dozen times, maybe more, and each and every time you’ve blatantly refused them. There’s one thing on your mind, and they aren’t it.

Harry.

Groaning to yourself, you bring your glass back up to your cherry red lips and take another sip of the strong drink. The alcohol hits your tongue, the Campari taking the edge off the hard liquor as it runs down your throat and into your veins.

Well, your drinks have taken the edge off, but you’re still not entirely comfortable, which is why you’ve spent nearly the entire three and a half hours since arriving... at the bar. About ten minutes ago, the desserts came out, including a tier of pink-frosted cupcakes that someone placed on the bar top a few feet down from you. Naturally, you’ve been eyeing them ever since.

Eyeing them yet again with a hungry expression, the bartender lets out a small laugh, snags one from the tier, and sets it next to your drink with a wink before heading off to help another customer. Staring at the cupcake, you sigh to yourself.

"I’m such a hopeless pig when it comes to desserts."

"I wouldn’t say that."

Your body perks up at the voice, and you glance over your bare shoulder to see Harry standing behind you, hands stuffed in his slack pockets.

"A woman who starves herself for the sake of beauty isn’t attractive at all. It’s rather sickening, actually."

"I bet you wouldn’t say that when I’m stuffing my face with one of those," you mutter, pushing the cupcake aside and turning in your seat so you don’t have to crane your neck around. Harry’s lips quirk into a rare smile.

"Presumptuous to assume I am that chauvinistic, Miss Y/N," Harry counters, eyes sparkling with amusement. You let out a puff of air through your nose.

"What’d they do to get you here?" you ask before nodding your chin at the suit he wears. "And how the hell did Cisco get you into that and actually brush your hair for once? You look good."

Harry briefly closes his eyes as if reliving a bad memory, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose just below where his glasses rest.

"I could ask you the same. I’ve never seen you in anything more formal than that skirt you wore to Barry’s birthday party."

You remember that party. Caitlin had convinced you to wear a skirt — something about showing off your legs. You had reluctantly agreed, but not for the leg part.

"I got blackmailed into keeping a promise," you answer simply. "It was either come here... or tell—ah, never mind. It doesn’t really matter now, does it? I’m here and upholding my end of the deal."

"Well, now, my interest is piqued," Harry says with a slight chuckle. You eye him before reaching for your drink and taking a sip.

"Well, piqued is all you’re going to remain, Dr. Wells," you respond coyly, a flicker of confidence shooting through you. Yep, the alcohol is definitely helping. You exchange further smiles.

"Regardless of what caused you to be here tonight, you look radiant — and I know everyone here thinks so too. So why are you rejecting all advances?" Harry asks, cocking his head slightly. "I mean, you have the looks, a gorgeous body, a beautiful smile... why do you keep saying no?"

"Actually, I was telling them to get lost," you answer dryly before looking down into your drink. "It’s because I’m not interested in anything those men have to offer. They only want one thing — a one-night fuck — and I’m not willing to give it to them. I have standards."

"Then what do you want?"

Your drink freezes halfway to your lips. Had he really just asked that? That’s a very forward question — and not one you ever imagined coming from a man like Harry Wells. And the way he said it...

You take a moment, working up the courage to express your thoughts. You want something real. Something long-term. Something that wouldn’t be fleeting or lacking true emotional investment.

"What I want—"

You’re cut off by a blonde woman in a pink dress two sizes too small, sporting an overdone face that oozes plastic and Botox.

"Excuse me, hot stuff," she purrs, batting her fake eyelashes and running her obnoxiously pink talons up his bicep. Almost instantly, you watch Harry shrink from her touch, clearly uncomfortable.

You shift your eyes back to the woman, narrowing them dangerously.

She looks Harry up and down like he’s a piece of meat she’s about to sink her fangs into... much to your growing annoyance. Her fluorescent pink nails snatch the cupcake the bartender had so kindly brought you, and with one sensuous dart of her tongue, she licks at the frosting.

She did not.

Your jaw drops momentarily before bristling. Clearing your throat pointedly, you glare at her. The harpy looks your way, distaste briefly flickering in her golden-brown eyes before she plasters on a fake smile.

"Oh! I’m sorry, honey," she coos, voice sickly sweet, "this cupcake was just sitting there, and well, I licked it so it’s mine."

She turns back to Harry, running her sharp fingernails lightly down his chest. "And hot stuff, I’ll be on the dance floor."

Pure rage blazes in your eyes.

Without even thinking it fully through, you act.

Slamming your glass down on the bar top, you grab the lapel of Harry’s blazer and yank him towards you. When his head is finally within reach — because he’s so damn tall — you slide your fingers into his perfectly coiffed hair and drag his lips down to meet yours.

His lips crash against yours, and all that dreaming you have done about what they would feel like becomes a reality. They are soft, warm, and oh so delicious. Swiping your tongue along the seam of his lips, you are overjoyed when Harry parts his lips and gives your lower lip a sharp nip before sinking just as deeply into the kiss as you are.

You nearly jump in place when a hand lands on your naked side and snakes around to your lower back, pulling your body slightly out of your seat and into his chest. Your chest presses against his, and you can feel the luxurious material of his suit against your skin. From your toes to your fingers, you feel your muscles go taut with desire. You can feel exactly what lies beneath that suit — and you want it. This is what you want. You want him. Not in a fleeting way. You want him in every way that matters.

Harry quickly takes control from you, taking the lead hungrily, desperately. You know he likes to be in control, and you have no issues letting him. Fingers press into your skin, sending little tingles outwards like shockwaves from every touch. His lips press against yours fervently, seeking a response you are very happy to give back.

Harry Wells’ kisses are not innocent. They are hot, fiery, passionate, and demanding. They pull you in, drug you, leave you chasing after more — which you are. Pulling him in closer, you feel Harry lurch for a second before catching himself with his other hand on the bar counter. Smirking against his dizzying, achingly possessive lips, you gently bite at his lip, hunger now ravenous and creeping into every bit of your mind and body. You are drunk on endorphins — no, you are drunk on him.

There’s a very obvious, grating cough and you reluctantly pull your mouth from Harry’s now red-smeared one. But you aren’t completely done with him yet — no, you have one last point to make. Tugging on the hair still clenched in your grasp, you pull his head back slightly. Then, with blazing confidence, you flick your tongue up the side of his exposed neck before planting a kiss against his skin that leaves a very obvious red lipstick mark. Harry lets out a strained groan, which makes you giggle. That should do it.

Keeping your hand buried in Harry’s hair and your fingers clutching his black blazer, you release the tension on his head and slowly turn to the harpy. She is fuming.

"Oh, well, I licked him so that means he’s mine," you say loftily, your red lips twisted into a canary smirk.

Harry drops his face to your shoulder, burying his nose against your neck. His body lightly shakes against yours, and the hand on your back presses harder into your bare skin. You know he is just barely managing to contain his laughter so he doesn’t ruin your smug moment. Rage burns clear as day in her raccoon eyes. You have won — and she has lost.

With a dramatic sneer of her over-inflated lips, she flounces off to the dance floor, shaking her skinny, flat ass as she goes. You giggle at her retreating figure, purely elated that you one-upped her and her fake look.

"Oh, that felt good," you muse to yourself, your triumphant smirk clear as day on your lips.

Harry lifts his head from where it had been pressed against your neck while you are still quietly giggling to yourself. When you look at him, you see that his lipstick-smeared lips are curled into a devious, delicious smirk. Your giggling quiets as you cock your head and look up at him, smugness shining in your eyes — and burning desire smoldering in his.

Harry pushes away from the bar top, getting his feet under him again before shifting his hands to gently cup the side of your face and neck.

"You, Y/N," he hungrily rasps out, his fingers lightly gliding over your tingling skin, "are a little fiend."

Your lips, still holding a smirk, curve into a deeper one as you lean up close, feeling the warm air he breathes out.

"What’re you going to do about it, Dr. Wells?" you tease, your eyes sparkling as you leer at him. "Spank me? I mean, I did do us both a favor and got rid of her..."

"Don’t tempt me," Harry responds, fire still crackling behind his gaze.

You snort out a laugh — but then your smile starts to fade as the brief drunken high dims. What did you just do!?

"I shouldn’t have done that," you blurt out, horror slowly seeping into the places where desire had once reigned. "I should not have done that... I— where’s my drink, I’m not nearly drunk enough to deal with this—"

You twist back around, scanning desperately for your almost-gone pink drink that surely would help you drown out the embarrassment now taking over. Before you can completely face the bar, Harry spins you back and dips his head down to yours again.

This time he initiates the kiss.

Harry doesn’t kiss you nearly as long as you kissed him — but it absolutely has the desired effect. You forget all about your drink. His tongue flicks across your crimson ones before weaving eagerly with your own. A pitifully soft whimper escapes your throat, and Harry greedily devours it, feasting off the taste of your drink — and most of all, you.

You truly do taste as exquisite as he had imagined nearly a thousand times by now. The way your mouth effortlessly moves against his insistent one only has the genius furious at himself for not pursuing you sooner.

Running his lips across yours one last time, Harry swipes his tongue along your lower lip before pulling back to stare into your wide, stunned eyes.

You are left breathless — and absolutely reeling. Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you figure out what to say.

“You’ve got lipstick all over your mouth,” you whisper, your cheeks now permanently hot. You reach back for your drink napkin, which is damp with condensation from your glass. Your searching fingers find it, and you raise it, beginning to wipe at Harry’s mouth as he stares at you with arched eyebrows and piercing eyes.

“Well, I can say that was more than enough excitement for the night. I—”

“Y/N.”

“…sorry… that was completely wrong of me…” you continue your bumbling mumbles, high on adrenaline and anxiety.

“Y/N.”

“…shouldn’t have…”

“Y/N!” Harry says forcefully, taking your chin in hand and forcing your eyes back to his. You are quick to avert them, refusing to look at him, guilt and insecurity seeping into your veins. What if he only kissed you back because he thought the blonde harpy was irritating? What if being in her presence killed his brain cells? But why did he kiss you again after? What if you—

“Y/N, look at me, damn it!”

Your eyes automatically dart back to his at his commanding tone, and you stiffen in your seat.

“Stop freaking out and breathe,” he tells you, his voice kind and gentle. You nod obediently before realizing you have been wheezing slightly, on the verge of a panic attack.

“That’s it. Deep breaths, babe.”

Oh dear lord, this is why your previous relationships never worked out. Because you are so damn insecure, and your past partners always got so irritated with you. You have medication to help with your anxiety — it works wonders — but only if you take it in the morning. You forgot your dose today because of a meeting at work. Closing your eyes, you focus on breathing, tuning out the throb of music, the chatter of voices, and the thoughts of Harry holding you close.

Well, you can’t tune out Harry’s hands, but ever so slowly, your breathing returns to normal.

“Sorry... I forgot to take my anxiety meds this morning, and you know how I am when I don’t take them,” you whisper, drooping where you sit. “And I’m really sorry about kissing you, I just—she was there, being a bitch, and my cupcake, she licked my damn cupcake... don’t even get me started on her voice. It was so irritating I just wanted to—and I don’t like to share...”

“Y/N,” Harry speaks softly, cutting off your low mumbles. “I’m not upset you kissed me. Wouldn’t have kissed you again if I was. You saved me from dealing with a nightmare.”

“Just say no to plastic,” you mutter, making his eyebrow shoot up again and his lips twitch into a smile.

“God, you’re adorable,” Harry sighs, brushing his thumb down your cheek. You feel heat burn on your cheeks at his words.

“Come on. You’re just going to get yourself worked up sitting at the bar for the rest of the night — and alcohol isn’t going to help either.”

“Well, it sure felt like it was helping, and you’re not the boss of me,” you mutter as Harry pulls you in the direction of the dance floor.

“What’re you doing?” you ask, stumbling along after him.

“Jesse’s told me everything about you, including your love for dancing,” Harry grumbles. “And I might hate it, but if it helps you relax and actually enjoy yourself, I’ll tolerate it.”

A few seconds go by, and he tacks on one last statement, almost too soft to catch:

“For you.”

“But Harry—” You start to protest, waving vaguely at his neck and the big red lipstick mark you left. “I— I, um... kind of left a mark on your...”

“Good. It’ll keep all the harpies away,” he answers, tightening his hold on your hand. “The only woman I’m interested in is you — and considering you’ve now staked your claim, no more arguing.”

You feel like you’re going to melt into a puddle at his words. He’s mine. God, you actually said that. When did you get that brazen with your feelings?

The current song ends, and people start milling around — some leaving the floor to get drinks, others entering after downing one. Harry pulls you right into the thick of it, blending in with the suits and dresses. He spins you around so you are facing each other in the crowded space.

“Yes, I enjoy dancing, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it in front of a bunch of people!” you exclaim, your eyes darting around at the swaying crowd.

Harry rolls his eyes before taking your hands. He pulls you toward him until your bodies are pressed together, keeping his left hand entwined with your right and moving your other hand to his shoulder. When your fingers settle there, he wraps his arm around your back and rests his hand on the small of your spine.

“That’s fine. You just keep looking at me,” Harry says, his voice low as he looks down at you with surprisingly soft eyes.

Curling your fingers tighter against his blazer, you nod. He stares at you for a few more moments as the slow, romantic song begins.

His hand briefly leaves your back to grab the pin holding your hair up. With one soft yank, he pulls it free, releasing your sparkling waves around your shoulders. His lips twitch in satisfaction as he tucks the pin into his blazer pocket and returns his hand to your back.

“That’s better. As exquisite as your hair looked up, it looked far too rigid,” Harry murmurs as he starts moving your bodies slowly to the rhythm of the music.

“Relax. No one is looking at you but me,” he whispers reassuringly. “I’ve been to enough after-parties to know that everyone’s way too drunk at this point to care — or even notice what other people are doing.”

You take a breath and briefly close your eyes.

How am I supposed to relax when I know he’s looking?

The party is long forgotten in your minds as you tease each other the entire way back to the lab. After several rounds of dancing against each other, nearly making out on the dance floor, and Harry spending several minutes wrestling another alcoholic beverage from your hands, you decide it’s probably best to head back before your hands start tugging at clothing. Or at least Harry decides it — apparently you are dangerous when drunk.

At this point, you think the taxi drivers are desensitized to couples leaving the nightclub because the one driving you back doesn’t bat an eyelash when a brief kiss turns into a one-minute passionate kiss. Paying for the ride, you practically stumble up the pathway to the lab doors, pulling Harry along while giggling. When you make it inside and your stumbling in heels doesn’t cease, Harry simply plucks you off your feet and into his arms, his long legs carrying you into the heart of the lab.

As much as you want to attack his face and neck with your lips, feeling his skin underneath them and sating the burning desire running through your veins, you don’t want to have to clean up smeared lipstick from his skin one more time. So you opt to whisk your fingers over his neck, jaw, and occasionally dip them into the neckline of his open shirt, getting just a hint of taut skin and muscle.Ohoho, someone has been hiding a lot of muscle underneath his black sweaters, and you most certainly want to explore each and every inch of it.

“Keep that up and we won’t make it to a bed,” Harry rumbles as you trail your finger along his collarbone hidden beneath cloth.

“Well, I certainly won’t complain,” you coo in his ear, making him sigh in exasperation before turning down the hall where his room is located. Giggling at him, you tuck your head into his shoulder and close your eyes for the rest of the way.

Harry enters his room and kicks the door shut before gently setting you on your feet. Twisting around, you look up into his face, your fingers lightly brushing over his lips.

“Give me a minute to get this makeup off, okay? Because as much as I love kissing you, it’ll get messy and I am not sleeping with it on my face...” you trail off, extracting yourself — albeit a little unsteadily — from his arms.

Turning on your heel, you take a wobbling step toward the bathroom when a hand darts out and smacks you on your barely covered ass, making you yelp and jump. Your head swivels around as you narrow your eyes at Harry, rubbing your slightly stinging behind with a grumble.

“I’m waiting,” Harry drawls, a hint of a smirk on his lips. Huffing at him, you toss your hair over your shoulder.

“And you know I’m not a patient man.”

“Good things take time, darling,” you respond airily as you continue your unsteady trek to the bathroom. With one last glance over your shoulder to see Harry still staring at your ass, you slip inside and shut the door.

With the door between you, you at least hope the burning sensation rippling across your flushed skin will go away. It does not.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” you whisper to yourself before lurching for the sink and fumbling for the bag Caitlin keeps tucked underneath for makeup emergencies. Finding it, you yank it out and grab several makeup remover cloths.

What are you doing?

Yeah, you’ve dreamed about this for months, daydreamed, had a few... spicier dreams too. But now that you’re so close to fulfilling them, your anxiety shoots through the roof and you start second-guessing everything. Shit — you really should have taken your meds today. Feeling defeated, you start scrubbing at your face with furious speed.

You break down the makeup in record time before bracing yourself against the sink, running a hand through your sparkling, messy hair. Your face is slightly red from your aggressive scrubbing; your lips are still crimson-stained from the lipstick, but at least you won’t smear it all over Harry’s skin. Your eyes hold a flicker of anxiety, bubbling just beneath the burning desire.

Gone is confident you.

What if you’re not good enough for him now that the magic's gone? What if he’s having second thoughts?

A soft knock taps against the door.

“Y/N/N, you better not be second-guessing yourself again,” Harry’s voice mumbles through the wood. “Because you’re beautiful even before you put on that makeup.”

Drunk you agrees. Anxiety-riddled you does not. With a sigh, you turn around and lurch for the door. Opening it up, you stare at Harry with a makeup-free face, your hair jumbled over your right shoulder, and your fingers twitching at your sides.

“I can’t help it,” you whisper. “I mean, you’re you. Incredibly hot, drool-worthy, you make me all hot and bothered when you talk about science stuff I don’t understand... and then there’s me. A B-average college graduate who pays her bills working a job that may not pay much, but I enjoy.”

“You’re also forgetting cynical, impatient, and grumpy. Have you ever considered maybe that’s exactly why I like you?” Harry asks, reaching up to cup your jaw. “Because you are passionate about what you love. You work your ass off. And I’d really like to show you just how much I like you — before you run away again. Don’t think I didn’t notice what you were trying to do when you said you needed that lipstick off.”

Your face flushes, caught red-handed, as usual.

“I do not run away from you!” you huff defensively. “I just—”

“No more excuses,” Harry cuts you off, pulling you forward until your balance topples and you crash into his chest. His hands steady you, and before you can even sputter, he tilts your face up and captures your lips again.

Harry kisses you deeply — possessively — with a passion you never expected but are more than willing to surrender to. Your hands flatten against his chest as his arm wraps around your bare back, slipping under your dress to caress your skin. As Harry steps forward and pivots your bodies, you cling to the rich material of his blazer.

Your back hits the wall with a soft thud, and you let out an ‘oof’ against his mouth.

Blinking rapidly to catch your breath, you stare up at Harry as he cages you in with his arms.

“Harry,” you breathe out, wide-eyed.

He looms closer, pressing his body against yours so you feel every hard, delicious line of him through your thin dress. His face dips down, brushing his nose lightly against the skin of your neck.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Y/N,” Harry growls against your skin, sending heat zipping across every nerve ending you possess.

You sputter for words — until he thrusts his hips forward and you very clearly feel the tightness of his pants against you.

The heat flooding your cheeks practically catches fire.

“Feel that?” Harry murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. His hips grind against yours again — slow, deliberate. Your breath shudders out of you. Little zips of electricity dance across your skin.

“You did this. You and you alone.”

A whimper escapes your throat, helpless against the overwhelming, delicious sensation of him pressed so tightly against you. Your fingers curl into the lapels of his blazer, wanting desperately for the fabric to just disappear.

“Will you let me show you just how close you got to me dragging you out of that club... and fucking you against a wall somewhere no one would ever find us?” Harry growls, his voice dark and low.

Dear lord, you’re pretty sure you could orgasm from words alone if he keeps talking like that, because you are now very aware the uncomfortable thong you’re wearing is completely soaked.

“Y/N,” Harry says softly, taking your chin again and lifting your flushed face so your eyes meet his — wide, vulnerable, burning with need.

“You literally have no idea how much I want you right now,” he whispers, voice cracking slightly at the edges. “But I won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s—it’s not that Harry,” you mumble out. “I just… I’m scared that you’ll change your mind come morning, and I don’t think I could take that.”

“Then let me prove to you that this isn’t a onetime itch, and I doubt I could ever get enough of you,” Harry practically begs. Your mind races as you make a split second decision. It is now or never.

“Ravage me before I get another chance to second guess myself,” you breathe out. “And don’t let me ever think you want otherwise, and hopefully drunk me will kick in by then, because that bitch is always horny for you.”

“With pleasure,” Harry responds with a smirk before diving back down.

Your mouths meet halfway, slamming together in an open mouthed, need filled, kiss that has you reaching up and digging your fingers into his hair for more. Tugging at his dark strands, your mouth lets out a moan that he hungrily devours as his fingers trace the lace elastic bands of the fish net hosiery that sparkle underneath the low lighting of the room.

With his fingers torturing your thighs, you bite at his lower lip, tugging at it with your teeth.

“Is that how you want it?” Harry asks, his voice husky and his eyes dark.

“Don’t make me beg for it, Harrison,” you whisper against his lips.

“I’ll save that for a later date, then,” Harry responds in a teasing tone. His fingers quickly find the thin back of the thong you wear, and in seconds he is tearing it free from your body, allowing the skimpy material to fall to the floor.

While his fingers slide back to cup your ass, your own drop down and are quickly working his belt loose and unzipping that tight zipper. Soon his own fingers are joining yours, shoving his slacks and briefs down just enough so the erection he has been teasing you with is free.

“God, you have no idea how much I want you,” you groan as you press your hands into the wall your back is pressed against. “I want you in me so bad, it’s been driving me crazy.”

“Good,” Harry purrs back before his hands reach down and he is shoving them against your hips, sliding the skirt of your dress to reveal the elastic straps of your thigh high hosiery. With your dress bunched up around your waist, you let out a gasp as he all but hoists you up against the wall, gripping you by your thighs.

Your arms automatically go around his neck, scrambling for something to hold on to while you wrap your heel clad legs around his waist with a small squeal. Well, this is another admission on Harry’s part, the man is built like a god, and strong like one too.

Staring down into Harry’s eyes, your cheeks long since flushed, you are once again enraptured by his beautiful blue eyes. So enraptured you don’t even register that he is pushing into you until he is at least halfway there. Sucking in a deep breath, a moan crawls up your throat as you dig one hand into his hair and the other into his shoulder, and when he starts to move, oh you are completely gone.

With every even paced thrust and soft grunt, your back and shoulders scrape slightly against the wall of the room, adding just a hint of sting you find you don’t quite mind. Harry leans in for more kisses, which you welcome with zero resistance. Your kisses are sloppy at this point, his thrusting throwing your poorly aimed kisses off.

That doesn’t matter, you just want your hands on each other and your lips working against each other. If you aren’t completely drunk from your drinks at the club, you are now just from the way his mouth twists with yours. Breaking apart to breathe, you pant for air while trying not to whine from the way Harry manages to hit every spot that brings your body to life.

As your eyes flutter from the sensation of fullness and pure rapture, your head flops back against the wall, offering Harry a chance to latch onto pristine, unmarked skin. You mark him, it is only fair that he returns the favor. His mouth starts kissing and biting at your skin, inciting you to push his head further into your neck and chest with a groan. You know just from the way he is sucking and pulling at your skin he is leaving marks of possession, staying true to his words. Your fingers slide through his combed hair, ruffling it back to its perpetually messy state. The intense feeling that is filling your body faster than you can understand, consumes you.

“Jesus,” you gasp out, your hand on his shoulder digging in as your nails scrape his skin, no doubt leaving red marks on his gorgeous skin. You’ve never felt so full before, so filled with pleasure and ecstasy, it’s almost overwhelming.

“And here I thought you knew better than to call another man’s name while I’m in you,” Harry says against your skin, that teasing tone back in his voice. Breathlessly laughing out loud, you can’t help but bury your face into his wild hair.

“Not to worry, Dr. Wells, you do your job and the only name on my tongue will be yours,” you coo in his ear, which seems to please him because the next moment he is thrusting at a different angle, harder, and seems like a man on a mission with his lips against your chest.

“Fuck—Harry!”

“That’s it,” Harry says hoarsely as his lips ghost up your neck and brush against your ear. “It’s me making you feel this good, not Dibny, not Palmer, me. Say it again.”

“Harry,” you moan out, your nails digging further into his shoulder. “Harry, Harry, Harry!”

That seems to make him happy because his head turns and his lips seek out yours once more, capturing them as he relentlessly thrusts his hips against yours, driving his cock as far as he can go into your body. Harry’s teeth tug at your lips before he flicks his tongue over the bitten spots.

All it takes for you to get pushed over the edge is one placed thrust, and you are screaming his name one last time as your orgasm rushes through your body like a tidal wave. One enormous surge of fire burns through your veins, turning your legs to jello and making them go slack around his waist, his hands and arms now being the only thing holding you up.

Gasping for oxygen, you loosen your tight hold on his hair and remove your nails from his back, your arms trembling as you come down from the high. Harry pulls out as he plants a few delicate kisses on some of your stinging skin. You drop your shaky legs back to the floor, standing wobbly with the heels and jello legs combined as Harry briefly takes a moment to slide himself back into his pants and button them. He is very pleased with himself for finally indulging in you.

Wetness runs down your inner thighs, no doubt ruining the expensive hosiery, and at that moment all you can do is ask yourself if that really just happened. Did grumpy, stoic, yet incredibly handsome Harry Wells just fuck you against a wall? Clothes and all? Yes, he had, and you are surprised to find that you find that a turn on. Drunk you really is a horny bitch… you guess it is a good thing you rarely get drunk then.

Harry moves his face so he is staring into your eyes, and for a few moments all you do is stare at each other and breathe. His hands leave your thighs and smooth out your bunched up dress before one trails all the way up to rest against your flushed cheek.

“Harry?” you ask in a small voice, not really sure what is going to happen now, and that word being the only one your mind is capable of speaking.

His eyes sparkle in satisfaction for a moment before he is leaning in and pressing his lips back to yours, his hand cradling your head. But rather than an intense, need filled, semi-chaotic kiss, his lips are gentle against yours, like butterfly wings against skin, or snow landing on eyelashes.

“I think I reached optimal satisfaction considering that the only thing coming out of your mouth for the last three minutes has been my name,” Harry muses, his lips still lightly brushing against yours. Your already flushed cheeks blaze with heat at his words, and at your realization that he is one hundred percent correct. You would have continued to softly sputter and blush trapped against the wall if realization hadn’t hit you.

“Harry,” you say, blinking up at him. “You didn’t—”

“Not important,” he responds, cutting your words off with a brush of his thumbs across your sensitive lips.

“But Harry—” His thumb presses against your lip, silencing you.

“What’s important is that you are treated like the woman you are, and given exactly what you need.” Your eyes drop from his in embarrassment.

“I’d say so,” you mumble quietly, your eyes darting around as heat rushes across your cheeks once more. “I mean I don’t usually… well… I mean…”

“I’m not a particularly selfish man when it comes to my own desires,” Harry speaks after you have trailed off. “But I am selfish about how I treat my woman, and I’d like to have my way with you and your incredible body if you’d allow me.”

“Well, you kind of already did,” you answer shyly, your legs shifting and once again reminding you of the ever present warmth he had caused.

“I told you I wanted to show you that this isn’t a onetime itch, Y/N, and I am only just getting started.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, the buzzing sensation of arousal coming back to life. Your face brightens up with hope. “So does that mean one more round? Because this dress is getting itchy and these heels are killing my feet…”

The smirk that forms on his face tells you exactly what he is thinking, and even anxiety riddled you seems excited about that.

Date Published: Heck if I Know

Last Edit: 28/4/25

Masterlist | Next

Harry Wells | The Flash

[butcherships]

Hii welcome to my self shipping blog! I follow from @federfleisch. I'm not pro-ship or anti-ship but a secret third thing (an adult who understands nuance and the complicated ways in which fiction and reality interact). I enjoy dark themes in my self ships, but if you ship incest or with underage characters don't interact! I'm non-sharing with William Afton and Lorenzo Waterman, so please don't interact with me if you selfship with either of them.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ My main f/o is William Afton/Springtrap (🔪🐇💜), we've been together since 2015! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

F/os I'm currently fixated on: Leland Coyle (👮‍♂️⚡) and Night Hunter (✨🐁)

Other F/Os

Romantic f/os are in pink, platonic in blue, familial in green, and unlabeled in purple

Fnaf:

Funtime Freddy/Molten Freddy (🧸💖)

Roxanne Wolf (🐺🏁) Montgomery Gator (🐊🎸)

Daycare Attendant (☀️🌙)

-

Invincible:

Cecil Stedman (🇺🇸💖)

Sinister!Mark Grayson (💥🥩)

The Immortal (👊🦸‍♂️)

-

The Walten Files:

Lorenzo Waterman/Pumpkin Rabbit (🎃🐇) Bon (🛠️🐇) Felix Kranken (💼🍺)

-

Fear and Hunger:

Enki Ankarian (🪲🧟) Le'garde (🌟🐍) Levi (🔫🎹)

-

Mad Max:

Immortan Joe (🚘💥) Max Rockatansky (🚘🐶)

-

The Elder Scrolls:

Cicero (🤡🔪)

-

Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul:

Gustavo Fring (🐔💎) Jesse Pinkman (🐶💎) Mike Ehrmantraut (🔫💎) Domingo Molina (🎱) Trent (🐶🖥️) - disco-self-ships' oc

-

Disco Elysium:

Kim Kitsuragi (📔🕵️) Harry Du Bois (🪩🕵️) Toussaint - disco-self-ships' oc

-

Fallout:

Joshua Graham (🔫🔥) Nick Valentine (⚡️🕵️)

-

Texas Chainsaw Massacre:

Thomas Hewitt (🥩🪚)

-

SCP Foundation:

SCP 049 (💉) SCP 096

-

Creepypasta:

Jeff the Killer (🔪🩸)

-

Ultrakill:

Gabriel (🪽⚔️)

-

My Little Pony:

Discord (🐉🪽)

[jessjad]

Hiya Jess!! I'm here for a little belated WIP Folder Game 🤓

Please tell me more about:

✨ When lightning strikes you (Dean x reader series) -> I immediately loved the title! I've always been a fan of the lightning imagery and can't wait to see what this is about ⚡️

✨ Behind the shadows (Dean x reader series) -> Yeah, you had me at mafia AU. Whaaaaat??? 👀👏

Hope you had a lovely day! 🩵

Hi Wayne! 👋🏻

Aahh, you wanna know the tea about my two series. I see you. 😏🤭 I'm happy to tell you a little bit more.

So, for the first one:

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: 9 years ago Y/N got struck by a lighting and her whole life changed. In a crash course she realized that the Supernatural is real and she has a mission to complete. But when her path crosses with the Winchesters, an ugly truth comes to the surface. And her developing feelings for Dean were definitly something she did not expect to happen.

This is actually one of the stories that's been the longest in my WIP. And I think I have already 18 chapters outlined. But I haven't finished it yet.

And for the second one:

• Behind the shadows

I still haven't worked on a proper summary for this one, but I try to explain what this is about in a few sentences.

Dean Winchester is the son of John Winchester, the current mafia kingpin of New York. John plans to retire soon and pass his empire on to Dean. And Dean takes this very seriously. His life is highly structured and dedicated to the family business. He has no time for anything else.

Completely unaware of what's happening behind the shadows underground, Y/N tries to navigate her life and help her ailing mother. The burden on her shoulders weighs heavily and she feels like she can't catch a break.

So what happens when these two people meet? When these two very different lives collide? Will something change, or will everything collapse?

This idea actually sparked from an old K-Drama. (Yeah, I'm outing myself here 😂) And The Adjustment Bureau helped, too. I'm still outlining this one and it will probably be a slow burn with a hint of enemies to lovers. Or at least that's what I have planned.

I hope you like it. Feel free to let me know what you think! 💜

[celestianstars]

The way they handle her actually made my brain feel fuzzy in the best way, J! Holy shit! 😮‍💨🥵😍 I am having many feelings and I absolutely loved everything about this, the buildup, the tension, the contrast in Boba and Din in how they show their desire, how they fuck, their dirty talk (which had me in shambles let me just say!) yess this was so dirty and fun and sexy, I am very excited they decided to stay one more night ahh!

— BEGGING FOR BESKAR

[part ii] | [ao3]

Boba Fett x F!Reader x Din Djarin

Rated E | 9k words | part i

Tags: Threesome, Boba x Din x Reader, Choking, Praise Kink, Armor Kink, Rough Sex

Okay, if you were being honest, then yes. You had an armor kink. You think maybe he knew it, too.

When Din brings you to visit an old friend, you find yourself with more Beskar than you bargained for.

“Tatooine?” You shifted in your chair, finally recognizing the coordinates on the dashboard, “Why are we headed there?”

Keep reading

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️(that newest chapter was so lovely!!)

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸(i have been consumed by this story and i must know what happens next!)

📚📚📚📚📚(so intrigued by ravi and his brother!)

✉️✉️✉️✉️✉️✉️(buck just loves chris so much! Sending him postcards like he did for maddie!)

🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌(steal my sunshine boys are almost at resolution! Love that for them!)

🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿(complicated family angst going straight to my heart! I love this universe!!)

…i will admit that i’ve gone a bit deranged in this request but can you blame me? Your writing is just too addictive and i am but a girl

(THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS YOU’RE AMAZING!!)

I think I got close to 30 of these and yours is the FINAL ONE! THANK YOU FOR SUBMITTING <3 <3

I appreciate you very much anon!

30 new sentences for⚡️(thank you! I'm, glad you enjoyed it!):

---

They’re just gonna make an appearance to welcome all the people who need welcoming. Easy peasy, in and out.

What Buck isn’t expecting is for Eddie to go insane. 

As they walk into the house, and do the requisite rounds of hellos, the moment Buck notices his parents, and notices them noticing him, Eddie loops an arm around Buck. Which would normally be fine,  except his arm is so low and loose on Buck’s waist, that he is very close to grabbing Buck’s ass. Might as well just slip a hand down his pocket. 

“What are you doing?” Buck whispers. 

Eddie turns his head so he’s speaking directly into Buck’s ear, like they’re having some sort of suggestive conversation. 

“Making it very clear that they shouldn’t plan on trying to confront you,” he says softly. “They won’t be getting you alone at any point this evening.”

Buck feels a little shiver run down his spine. He likes this, whatever the hell it is.

“I love you,” he tells Eddie.

“Love you, too.”

But then his parents are walking towards him, and Buck wants to puke. He wants to turn and walk the other way. He does not want to play at niceties, no matter how resolved he is to do just that. 

Buck takes a steadying breath. Eddie’s grip on him tightens. 

“Evan,” his father says. “It’s good to see you.”

Beside him, Buck’s mother purses her lips. He can tell which one of them has taken things more personally. Which, fair. It was personal. 

“Hi,” Buck rasps. “Uh, you remember Eddie.”

From such fun occasions as the time Buck nearly died in a factory fire and the time Buck nearly died in a thunderstorm. What fun awaits them tonight, pray tell?

---

18 for 🩸(THANK YOU! I am so happy to hear that!):

---

 Sophia is leaning in his open doorway, wearing striped sleep shorts and an oversized Texas Rangers tee shirt. Her pixie cut - a newer development - has yet to be styled, and is sticking out in a myriad of directions. 

“What?” Buck huffs.

“Mayor did a press conference this morning,” she says. “We’re down to yellow.”

Buck practically flies up into a sitting position. 

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” she replies, lips curling into a smile. “Wouldn’t lie about that and you know it.”

“Have you spoken with your parents yet?” Buck asks.

She shakes her head. “Figured we’d want to strategize. Coffee is brewing.”

“Has Chris…” Buck trails off, body tingling with joy.

“You should be the one to call him,” she tells him.

---

15 for 📚(Thank you! Excited to share my Ravi vison):

---

At least Buck is also arriving late to the party, and doesn’t like him yet. That will definitely change, though. Anil is charming and Buck is easygoing. Unless you’re Ravi in your probationary year, of course. 

Ravi walks up to the kitchen table with Buck, mid conversation.

“No, I swear,” Anil is saying to Chim. “It was Jesse Palmer.”

“You sold the host of The Bachelor a house?” Chim asks, awestruck. 

Damn it. How did Anil sniff out Chim’s fascination with that show? 

“We had a call on the set!” Chim exclaims. “All the contestants wanted to sleep with Buck and Eddie!”

“Yeah, I didn’t actually enjoy that,” Eddie mumbles.

---

18 for ✉️(He does!):

---

“And then, I-I thought… He’s a kid, you know? He got angry, he made a really big, serious choice. And-and he was probably scared shitless right away, and missed you, and maybe missed me, too, but was still hurt and angry and didn’t know what to do about that. And I remember what that’s like, so… So I-”

“So did what helped you, when you left home,” Eddie finishes for him.

“Yeah,” Buck nods. “Exactly. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Eddie whispers. “Did he write back?”

Buck chuckles, eyes wet. “He texted. Not at first, but after the second one.”

Buck pulls out his phone, scrolls back up through some messages, and then hands it to Eddie. Eddie reads over a quick conversation where Chris acknowledges the postcards, pretends they’re lame, and then not so subtly tells Buck not to stop sending them. 

“Wow,” Eddie exhales, handing Buck back the phone. “He wasn’t even taking my calls then.”

---

15 for 🌌(Yeah! Almost done!)

@steadfastsaturnsrings

---

“You’re okay,” Buck says, snaking a hand up the back of Eddie’s neck to cradle his head. “You are going to get through this.”

Eddie allows himself to be held, sagging forward into Buck. Buck, who has always been his safe place, even when loving him represented something that felt so dangerous. But it hasn’t been. It hasn’t been. Eddie has had it all wrong. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie tells him again. “I never meant to…”

“I know.” Buck says into his hair. “I know that.”

“Please forgive me.”

“You know I do,” Buck sighs. “I just… This can’t go on like this, you see that, right?”

---

And 24 for 🌿(Yay thank you!!!):

@goldenbcnes

---

“Well, I’m not a little kid,” Jee pouts. “I can understand.”

Maddie smiles back at her beautiful, smart eleven year-old. Yes, she is still a little kid. Thank you very much. But Maddie isn’t going to burst her bubble of self-perceived maturity.

“Your uncle and I had a very different childhood than yours,” Maddie says. “Our parents treated us very differently from how Dad and I treat you, or how Uncle Buck and Uncle Eddie treat Nico. They love you, Jee, and I am so glad that they do. But there’s a lot of hurt for your uncle and I.”

“But you still see Grandma and Grandpa,” Jee points out.

“I do.”

“You’re not mad at them?” Jee asks.

Well… Yes. Yes, she thinks some part of her will always be mad at them. And how to answer this? Tell her daughter it’s easier not to be mad? To suck it up. She doesn’t want to say that. She… Well, she would want for Jee what Buck has done for himself, if she and Howie were ever so callous towards her. 

“They’ve tried very hard to make it up to me,” Maddie says, instead. Though that doesn’t sit comfortably with her, either. Maddie begins to feel a little sick. Had Buck been right?

[little-pondhead]

[This has me in a chokehold?? Holy shit. Also I’m not skilled with fake text generators so y’all get a painfully typed out group chat.]

Oh, Danny was pissed.

He didn’t know what a Speedster ™ was, but like hell he was going to let his hard work he wasted like that. Fixing the timeline was hard! It was tedious! Danny had to be fully aware of the butterfly effect at all times no matter where and when he was!

And Clockwork is telling him that this happens on a regular basis?? No wonder the old fart got a little cryptic and smart-mouthed at times! Danny would go insane if all he was doing was preventing the extinction of an important beetle but someone fucked it up and now the humans are doing surgeries on grapes and making meatballs out of mammoth meat!

This would not do, Danny decided. If Clockwork was making his apprenticeship official as of thirty seconds ago, Danny was going to take full advantage of that fact.

He stuffed Clockwork’s note into a belt pocket and zipped over to his favorite Nap Room. It was the only room in the entire tower without a clock, which was invaluable when Danny was trying to catch up on sleep. Right now, though, he was more focused on the tiny closet in the corner than his galaxy-themed bed.

Danny threw open the dark purple door without hesitation, almost breaking the handle off in his haste. Sure enough, a mini version of Clockwork’s cloak and scepter were laying innocently on a shelf that wasn’t there before.

Danny didn’t even think twice about it and slipped the cloak on, fastening is together over his shoulders with a little moon pendant. Tugging up the hood so it cast his face in a dark shadow, Danny noticed how the edges of the cape seemed to flow unnaturally, turning into a fine mist that made the cloak seem longer than it actually was. Well that was kind of cool.

He grabbed his new staff next. The scepter was small, a bit shorter than Clockwork’s and closer to the size of a baseball bat. The top held a similar ticking clock his mentor’s had, but it was smaller and nestled in the curve of a Cheshire moon. The body had tiny stars etched into it, and the letter D was stamped on the very bottom like a wax seal.

Danny smiled nastily and took an experimental swing. The weight was good. It felt pretty similar to a baseball bat, too. So Danny was confident he could bonk someone with this if they got too rowdy. Might be useful if he was dealing with the living rather than the dead.

A green sticky note popped into existence on his forehead.

The Medallion is in your cloak pocket. Put it on, the portal will open in 5.2 seconds. Don’t eat any of the grilled cheese.

Reading this, Danny cursed and scrambled to find the Medallion and slung it around his neck, just as a swirling portal opened up under him and sucked his entire being into a vacuum of green and purple.

At least he knows his clock has pockets.

———

Barry Allen was supposed to be enjoying his day off. It was rare when he was free from both his civilian job and his hero one. He was taking the opportunity to run some much-needed errands and was determined to enjoy the day, no matter what happened.

Well he barely made it past noon before those plans were ruined.

Honestly, Barry didn’t even noticed the figure at first. He was just returning from the dry cleaners with fresh laundry in hand, silently nodding along to some music in his headphones and weaving through other pedestrians on the sidewalk. It was the busy part of town, and while usually he tried to avoid these areas just for the sake of peace and quiet, there was only one dry cleaner in all of Central City that could tackle the tough and nasty stains he accumulated through his forensics job.

The point is, Barry didn’t want to be on the street any longer than he had to. But a twitchy shadow in the corner of his eye had him whipping his head around, scanning the crowd to find the source of his sudden discomfort. He looked once and then looked again, sure he was missing something. There was something here. Something dangerous.

More movement drew his eye to a shop window. The store was an electronics one, and had a stack of tvs facing the street, all turned to the local news channel. A figure draped in deep purples was standing there, inches from the glass and seemingly transfixed on whatever the news was showing. A commercial came on and the figure shifted a third time, turning their head to check the other tvs.

The figure’s outline was misty, like they weren’t completely solid, and the turn of their head revealed floating white bangs and a tapered ear. They clutched a short staff in their hands, messing with it like they didn’t know how to hold it. They were anxious about something, Barry could tell.

He sighed, and stopped, leaning against a lamppost to shoot a quick text to the inter-dimensional Flash family group chat.

-

⚡️Ketchup&Fries⚡️

Hey guys, I just spotted an unknown meta downtown. I’m not suited up so if I need backup I’ll let you know.

⚡️Fries&Ketchup⚡️

i’m in class rn. is this permission to skip if your old knees can’t outrun a meta?

Every Ho

Jay and I aren’t even in the same dimension as you right now, so count us out.

Garrick

Speak for yourself. I’d gladly skip this meeting on Mars-32 if Barry needs help.

WallyWorld

I’m in China at the moment, so I can be there if you need👍🏻

🐰OURspeedforce

off world

MustardRuns

Why am I still in this group chat.

quickie-or-quiche

because we hate you

WallyWorld

Oh hold on Hunter showed up. Might take a moment.

Zhu Zhu Pet🐹

Stop running away! I’m trying to make you a better hero dammit!

WallyWorld

Sprinting around your problems won’t make them love you back, Hunter :)

quickie-or-quiche

f o u l

⚡️Fries&Ketchup⚡️

taking a test, shut up guys

Every Ho

Just turn your phone off, Bart

⚡️Fries&Ketchup⚡️

These old phones can turn off???

⚡️Ketchup&Fries⚡️

I’ll just go see what they want.

🐰OURspeedforce

don’t die

MustardRuns

I hope you die.

-

“They have inter-dimensional cell service in this dimension?”

Barry almost yelped and almost dropped his phone, pulling out an earbud as he turned towards the voice. The figure was two inches away from his shoulder, burning green eyes staring curiously down at his screen. Barry hurriedly turned the chat off and slipped the device into his pockets, but the figure didn’t give any sign of being offended.

“U-uh…” he stammered.

The figure continued, ignoring his startled behavior. “I knew this place had to be high-tech in some way, but I didn’t know it was far enough to let civilians send signals through the Zone.”

“Ah, yeah, some of us can…” Barry honestly had no idea what to say. Initiating conversation with an unknown was different than having them come up to you first. His mind was racing, trying to find the perfect response. He decided to play along. “What dimension are you from? I haven’t seen you around before.”

The figure shrugged. Their misty purple cloak moved oddly with the action, spilling farther onto the street and sidewalk. With a mental jolt, Barry realized no one was paying attention to the figure at all. In fact, some of them were even walking through them.

“Oh, I’m not actually sure.” The figure mused, twisting their staff between their fingers. “This is my first time meeting a living human who could traverse the Zone so seamlessly. I’ve never had to give my home a name. I do wonder why you can see me better than the other humans, though.”

“Oh, ah,” Barry scratched his neck. Was it too late to bail? Come on man, think of an excuse! “Well, on this Earth, some humans carry something called the meta gene. It gives people special abilities. I’m not sure who (or what) you are, but metas only take up a small part of the total population nowadays.”

The figure hummed over this new information. The clock on their staff made a light ticking sound, as if to remind Barry of the time. “So you’re a meta, and only metas can see me?That’s very interesting and important information. Thank you, sir. I’ll keep that in mind when going about my business.”

“No problem,” Barry chuckled awkwardly. “If I may ask, what’s your name? If this is your first time here, I can probably help with whatever you got going on.”

The figure shivered. From what, Barry couldn’t tell. Their hood was too far forward for him to see their face, and only a few strands of their whispy white hair could escape from the massive cloak. Their glowing green eyes appraised him seriously, examining every inch of his body. Barry felt like they were picking apart his soul.

Finally, they reached a decision and pulled their hood down. “Please, call me Phantom.” The hollowed face of a young boy smiled unnaturally at him, holding a hand out to shake. “I want you to assist me in my work, until I release you from my service. Will you agree? Ah. Humans still shake hands for important things, right? ”

Barry sucked in a sharp breath. He didn’t understand everything the boy had said, but honestly, his looks had grabbed Barry’s attention more than the grating static of his voice.

The boy’s skin was pale and glassy. Smooth, like the color was painted on. Like how a mortician adds color back to a corpse. His teeth were too sharp for a human’s, and Barry instinctively knew that one good chomp from Phantom would land his ass in the ICU immediately. His ears were pointed like an elf’s and his face was angled like one, too. This boy was not human in any way.

Barry almost wished that the civilians around them could see the wispy kid, floating in the air to match Barry’s eye level and looking around with innocent wonder. Just so there was proof that he was most likely about to make a deal with some sort of Fae.

Instead, he forced himself to smile, take Phantom’s offered hand, and recited very carefully, “Yes. Nice to meet you, Phantom. Please call me Barry Allen.”

Phantom’s eyes lit up in recognition. “You’re Barry Allen? Oh, this is great! This makes my job so much easier!”

The hero was almost too scared to ask. “Your…job?”

Phantom nodded and grabbed his forearm, dragging him back to the tvs with surprising strength. “Yes! My mentor gave me your name as a hint, so I suppose you’re going to help me find something.” He jabbed a thin finger at the screens. “This man right here! He’s the source of my mentor’s headaches at the moment. I’m rather upset with him, too. He messed up a timeline I had just fixed, one that I worked so hard on!” The boy released Barry and pouted, looking rather put out. “Do you think you can help me find him?”

Barry stared at the news channels with distant horror growing in his gut. Currently, they were showing a recent clip of himself, as the Flash, zipping through the city like a bolt of lighting.

“I’m not sure…”

Phantom giggled a bit, his eyes turning hard as he watched the Flash clip play again. The two anchormen were discussing the latest crime Barry had stopped.

“Too late! You shook my hand! The deal is set,” Phantom twirled his staff and smiled, like he was telling Barry about a prank he’d just pulled. A medallion hanging around Phantom’s neck glinted in the light as thee boy took his hand again and flipped it over, showing Barry a shimmering mark of a D branded into his palm. “Ah, don’t worry. It’s temporary. I won’t let him hurt you just for helping me. And I won’t hurt him (much), either!”

The boy’s smile dropped. Barry couldn’t pull his hand away.

“I just want to talk.”

DP x DC prompt/one shot :

After another tiring missions of helping Clockwork fix the timeline, Clockwork always assigned him "homework" of rewatching what he did and write a report on how he thinks he did (good, bad, what need to improve, what been improving,…)

As Danny was rewatching the scenes of a timeline being changed by him from one of the many screens in CW's lair like always, suddenly a static displayed on the screen for a few seconds and all his hard work of the week go up in smoke in front of his eyes as another completely different timeline take it's place.

As Danny was currently in shock, suddenly a green sticky note appear on the screen,

[ I am currently occupied with something else today, so as my official apprentice as of right now, i find it upon myself to finally tell you about the Speedster™ problem,

As you can see from what just happened before you, it is rather bad, as the timeline get divergent without considering the consequences, as my newly appointed apprentice, this is going to be your first official mission,

You will find that in the closet inside the room that you normally nap in, there is a new cloak and a time staff that will let you temporarily borrow my power over time, and a medallion, the portal will open after you go out of the lair,

A hint for you: Barry Allen. ]

– C.W

[stargirlfics]

happy birthday amalia!! I hope you’re celebrating today with lots of treats and rest, you so deserve it 🎂💖 I’ve been practicing insta-style graphics, so I made you a few for the gentleman fic as a little gift (and I used some inspo from your tag, I hope that is ok!) - it’s such a gorgeous comfort read! I really hope you like them and hope even more that you have a beautiful birthday!!! love you, friend!

JESS 🥹🥰💕 THIS IS AMAZING WHAT!! Thank you so so much for taking the time to make these, I’m delighted you used some inspo from my tag ahhh 😍

The colors and images feel so luxurious and beautiful just like the universe of The Gentleman and I appreciate the love you show to the series! It means so much coming from you cause I adore your Alfred works so much and just you as a friend as well, I am going to cherish this so much! I keep staring at each graphic like 😍😮‍💨 SPEECHLESS!! It makes me want to open the series doc. and start writing, your visuals are always stunning!

My birthday has been great, definitely lots of treats and rest and I’m feeling very loved so thank you once again for being part of that! Love you so much! 💐💞

[celestianstars]

hi hi amalia, just wanted to drop by with a virtual hug and say that I hope your summer is going well!! 💖 thinking about you!

Aww hi my dear friend! This is so sweet, your virtual hugs and kind messages are always cherished so this made me smile to see! 🥺☺️🫶🏾

My summer has been pretty good, there’s been a lot of exciting moments and good times spent with people I love and despite how uncomfortably hot and humid it gets where I live, I’ve been able to make some special summer memories and enjoy the sunshine! Hope your summer has been treating you well also, loveee you to bits!!! 🥰💕

[bibiwrld]

ANARCHY🎸⚡️| Hobie Brown

previous: –seven.

–eight.

THIRD PERSON POV

Pav sang Bad Habit by Steve Lacy for the second time, since he insisted that he deserved an encore, he censored himself for Mayday of course.

Peter and went up and sang Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears. The adorable duo gained the crowd's affection. Mayday clapping offbeat and babbling into the mic anytime her father brought the mic down to her.

It was now someone else's turn.

Miles raised his. "I wann—"

Gwen quickly covered his mouth, noticing that Hobie was trying to convince Sasha to go next.

"Come on doll, no need to be shy." His polished fingers caressed her chin, his eyes staring deeply into hers. "I want to hear that pretty voice."

She avoided his intimidating stare. "O-okay." She stood up and went in front of them. She picked up the mic. "Right Side of My Neck by Faye Webster."

Jess typed it into the search bar on the YouTube app of the large TV. Music started playing and the lyrics were displayed on the screen.

Sasha was nervous— her head down and her free hand fiddling with the hem of her shit.

"You said you can't change your haircut—" Her voice was soft and sweet, delicate even. "But it looks good anyway."

Hobie sat up, being shocked by the sweetness of her voice. Pavitr glanced at Hobie and smiled at his reaction, he thought it was adorable.

Even Miguel was a little caught off guard. Little Mayday giggled and clapped at the girl in front of her.

She gradually raised her head, glancing at everyone. "The right side of my neck still smells like you." She felt like she was on an episode of American Idol.

Hobie's bright smile made her shy away. A smile of her own creeping up on her face. Hobie thought she was the purest girl he's ever laid eyes on— a winsome little thing.

"The right side of my neck still smells like you." She gradually slowed down. "The right side of my neck still smells like you."

The song ended and everyone cheered, well except for Miguel— he clapped twice.

She placed the mic back on the table behind of her and retreated to Hobie's side.

" 's so good, I loved it." He wrapped his arms around her. God, he couldn't keep his hands to himself, she was just perfect to him.

"Thank you, Hobie." She hugged him back.

He rested his head on top of hers, cuddling with her.

"Gosh Hobes, don't squeeze the girl to death." Jess joked while looking at the pair cuddled up on the couch by themselves.

Hobie only brought her closer.

"Me next." Jess slowly got up.

"Nuh uh!" Miles stood up.

A hand was placed on her hip and a brow rose."What the fuck you mean nuh uh?"

"Oh God." Miguel sighed.

Peter immediately covered Mayday's ears. "Hey guys, how about turning off the profanity?"

"Oh shit— I mean..sorry Peter." Jess nervously chuckled.

🌀

Jess did end up getting her turn after Sasha. Miles had no other choice but to let her, with Pav and Gwen telling him "She's literally pregnant." and "That's like not giving up your seat for a pregnant lady."

Jess sang Tyrone by Erykah Badu, of course censoring herself for Mayday.

Gwen and Miles went up together, sharing the mic and singing Not Allowed by TV Girl. The duo censored themselves at different curse words by saying "uhhh" or just laughing. They were so in love and everyone could tell— well except for Miguel in that moment, he was asleep.

Now it was Hobie's turn. It didn't take long for him to decide on a song— Vixen by Ayesha Erotica.

He gave a cheeky smile to Sasha, paired with a wink while singing. Hobie wasn’t the shy type, he was very bold. Dare him to kiss a girl he’s been crushing on and he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“If you want to I can play victim.” His accent was so thick. “I am your vixen.”

Sasha shifted in her as he took slow strides towards her. Everyone watched his actions carefully— except for Miguel, he was asleep, still.

“I can meet you in the car lot.” He bent down to her level, his face just inches away from hers. His hand grabbed hers, placing it on his thigh, slowly guiding it to his crotch. “I’ll spread out on your hot rod.” He leaned back up, towering over her. His hips slowly rolled to the song, smiling down at her, he knew what he was doing to her.

Peter covered Mayday’s eyes. “Wait can he do that? Is this allowed? Aren’t there words to censor?”

“Uhh..” Was all Gwen could utter.

Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, Jessica and Peter all stared in awe.

Sasha was stunned by his actions, looking away in embarrassment, but not pulling her hand away. Hobie chuckled lightly at her reaction, thinking it was the cutest thing ever.

“You guys feel the sexual tension too, right?” Pavitr asked with raised brows.

“Yes.” They all answered.

Hobie’s thumb lightly pressed down on Sasha’s bottom and top lip. “You can touch and feel just don’t get in the way. Lust and drugs, no intuition. Who goes first? Make your decision.”

Sasha stared, she was getting lost in his eyes, it’s as if he had her under a spell. The way she looked at him— he was so hard, she could probably feel it through his pants.

He sang the final line of the chorus and slowly moved the mic from his mouth, crouching down to her level. She began leaning up to meet him—

“Please don’t have sex in front of us.” Miles let out.

Hobie chuckled and pulled away from Sasha, leaving her a little disappointed.

“That was fun!” Pavitr clasped his hands together.

“Uh…very stimulating.” Gwen scratched her head.

Jess and Peter took a selfie with a sleeping Miguel.

Sasha stood up and stretched. She checked her phone to see multiple messages from different people and also noticed that it was extremely late.

“I’ve got work in the morning.” She groaned.

“I’ll take ya home, just give me your number and send the address.” Hobie spun the car keys on his pointing finger.

“O-okay.”

📁

Next part: –nine.

Tags: @urmotherswhor3 @kay-i-guess

[celestianstars]

Swooning over how stern and in control he is but also so giving, how thorough, making sure the lesson is well learned 🥵 woww, I need to lie down! This was perfect and yummy! Going to be thinking about gruff, old man Logan for some time and I’m not mad about it!!

ahhh I’m in love with the way you write oldman!logan! Lately I’ve been thinking about dom!logan bending his girl over his knee and giving her a couple spankings, and of course rewarding her for her good behavior later ;) love ur page so much!

oh! 😳💖 dom!old man logan has my heart and he for sure wouldn’t hesitate to put you over his knee - I love this so much!! I hope this little blurb did your idea justice because I am obsessed!! (and thank you so so much!! for the kind words and this awesome ask! 💕)

lessons | old man logan x f!reader

550 words | impact play, spanking, sub/dom vibes, teasing, begging, fingering

He can hear each sound that slips from you. Every gasp and whine. The sharp, inhaled breath you hold, with the twist of his wrist.

Bracing for impact.

If his eyes were to shut, he thinks he’d hear more. The hammering of your heart beneath your ribs, the creak of your fingers as they fist in the fabric of his trousers.

Feel more - the hot exhale of your breath, buried against his thigh. The shift of your knees as they inch wider.

Your scent rolls off you in waves. So much of him has diminished over the years - the once-sharp shine of his claws now dulled. That silver gleam now scuffed up, matted.

But not his senses. Helpless with the way you overwhelm him, all that want and desire building to a crescendo.

It’s supposed to be a punishment, and he can’t pretend it’s not torture.

“How many left?”

It’s more gruff than he means to be. Demanding - a hard edge to the words.

A breath, before you’re answering, “F-five.”

“And you got it through that head of yours?”

“Yes.”

The syllables draw out - the slightest flinch in anticipation, when his hand lifts from the armrest. The cool roll of his now-empty whisky glass against a cheek, the liquor now faded from his tongue.

Followed up the cup of a broad palm. The skin warm beneath, where he’s already begun. Ten, placed swiftly.

Resisting the urge to twist his wrist once more. Let his fingers drift against your seam, knowing they’d come back slick. Tilt his head down enough to drag his tongue against the glossy ring of condensation left against your skin.

But, you’d never learn that way.

“Good,” He rasps, “Gonna finish them out.”

Fingers curling, unable to help the slightest squeeze. You clench with your sigh, his thumb stroking skin just above where your leggings are tugged down, framing the pretty curve of your ass.

“Not gonna take it easy on you, just ‘cause you said yes.”

You nod. An arch to your back, as you breathe out a, “Thank you.”

His jaw ticks. A curse bitten back as his cock throbs, where it presses against his trousers - your hip rubbing against him each time you jolt forward.

It’s enough that his hand is swinging again. A sharp crack, punctuated by the gasp as the air is pushed from your lungs.

“Count ‘em, sweetheart.”

“Five.” You pant.

Then four. Then three, two. One.

Logan’s rougher than he needs to be. A real cry pulled on the last one, a punctuation to the lesson he’s certain you won’t soon forget.

Your thighs flex, where you’re bend over his knees. Eyes half-lidded and tear-rimmed, when your head turns - cheek pressed against a thigh.

His own admiring his work. Unable to help the drift of his hand, now. Thumb denting your skin, tugging.

“Please.” You squirm - always wanting, “Logan-”

His own name, whined out. None of the pretty names you call him, dripping with submission. Forgetting yourself with your need, and it does something to him.

He sinks into heat. Two fingers tucked together, burying between your slick thighs. Feeling how you give around him, a pitched-high moan that has the edge of his lips twitching.

Giving you what you need, once more. A reward, for how well you took him.

Because along with the rest -

Maybe he’s grown a little less patient over the years, as well.

thank you so much for reading! 💕

[insomniakisses]

TLOU M.List

💖 Fluff / 🌧 Angst /🔥 Smut / 🤝 Platonic / 💞 related / 🐺 omegaverse / 🍆 G!p /⚡️Modern Au / 🐾Werewolf AU

Joel Miller

Tess

Maria Miller

Ellie Williams

Dina

Jesse

Abby Anderson

[pjoplanner]

⚡️ CONTRIBUTOR SPOTLIGHT — Jess Ramos ⚡️

i'm so glad that the internet is in its pjo renaissance era

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Elvis & Addison

Fandom: Elvis Presley, RPF, American Actor

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character

Characters: Elvis Presley, Addison Goodwin, Original Female Characters, Priscilla Presley, Lisa Marie Presley, Jess Goodwin, Colonel Tom Parker, Vernon Presley, Gladys Presley, Marci Cunningham, Jerry Schilling, Red West, Sonny West, Marty Lacker, Joe Esposito, Charlie Hodge, Lamar Fike, Alan Fortas, George Klein, Memphis Mafia, Minnie May ‘Dodger’ Presley, Gene Smith, Billy Smith, Steve Cunningham, Mary Jenkins, Alan Fortas, Original Male Characters, Mona Goodwin, Joe Goodwin

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Word Count: TBC

Summary: Elvis Presley is a star. A star that burns bright and warm enough to illuminate everyone around him. But to Addison Goodwin none of that matters. To her, he's just that boy from Memphis and yet he's everything. The father of her child. Her best friend. Her love. Her Elvis.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Graceland, Las Vegas, The International Hotel, Elvis In Vegas, 1970s, 1970s Elvis, Friends To Lovers, Rekindled Romance, Parenting, Time Line is Sketchy, Guilt, Betrayal, Teenage Pregnancy, Hawaii, Hidden Pregnancy, Jealousy, Sex, Absence of Parent, Single Motherhood, Trauma, Sex, Tension, Poverty, Friends to Lovers, 1950s Elvis, Bad Parenting, Surprise Surprise the Colonel Is a Colossal Prick, Parental Loss, Grief, Fun Fairs, Kissing, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Movie Nights, Arguing, Tension, Denial of Feelings, Age Gap Romance, Underage, Addison is 17 Elvis is 22, Extortion, Blackmail, Army Elvis, American Draft, US Army, Lying, Time Shift with Elvis moving to Memphis, Caught, Birthdays, Implied Death, Flashbacks, Love, Established Relationship, Cuddles, Hugging, Arguing, Parents, Implied Death, Implied Sickness, Family Arguments

Notes: I have absolutely loved writing this lil Elvis universe and though my second part of the series is done I intend to keep writing for Addie and Elvis as there's more to this story I wanna explore. So if there's anything you want to see at any part of the timeline feel free to ask me!

Fics are posted in order of the timeline xx

Fics

The Girl He Left Behind

Fractured

Here You Come Again

Top of the List

Our Little Secret

Closure

Little Bird

Untethered

Link To AO3

More to come ⚡️

Aesthetics

Character Inspo

The Girl He Left Behind Pinterest

Here You Come Again Pinterest

Elvis and Addison Aesthetic

Addison Aesthetic

Jess Aesthetic

Marci Aesthetic

Presley Family Aesthetic

Jessie Jo & Lisa Marie Aesthetic