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this-is-tiny-mia · 4 days ago

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OMG the tags 🤭🤭🤭🤭 so so so sooo glad you liked it 🤗 i'm so happy!!!

Soft Secret (H.S One Shot) +18

General Masterlist

uni!harry x fem!reader / softdom!reader Summary: At a party, you drop your innocent act and pull Harry into a heated, unforgettable night. A/n: After a month and a half im backkkkk i hope you guys enjoy this Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: SMUT, soft dom reader, unprotected sex, spitting The dorm party was already buzzing by the time you arrived, sticking close to Niall’s side like your life depended on it. You weren’t exactly a party girl—more the “hang out in the park or your room with headphones on” type. But when Harry had tilted his head at you earlier, curls bouncing and that slow, lazy grin on his face as he said, “Just come for a bit,” you’d nodded before your brain could offer a way out.

So now you were here. A little overwhelmed, holding a drink that tasted like fruit punch and vodka, and pretending not to be sweating—from both the heat of the crowd and your nerves. The music thumped in your chest, and bodies swayed and collided around you like waves. People were looking at you—knowing you as the innocent one, the good girl, the very polite one—and then there were the other looks. The ones only you understood…

“Still alive?” a deep voice asked near your ear.

You turned your head and found Harry standing beside you, cheeks flushed, shirt half undone. He looked unfairly good like this—messy and confident.

You gave him a shy smile. “Barely. This place smells like sweat.”

He laughed, a low, warm sound that somehow made it worse. “Drink’s not strong enough?”

“I did mix in a bit more vodka. I’m fine,” you said quickly, flashing him a smile.

Eventually, Niall tugged you into the crowd with a tipsy grin, his hands waving wildly as he shouted the lyrics to whatever song was blasting. And after a few minutes of resisting, something inside you loosened. The drink kicked in. Your shoulders relaxed. You started moving with the music—awkward at first, but then… kind of free. You and Niall were screaming lyrics and laughing, just having fun.

As much as you weren’t the party type, you let yourself enjoy a different kind of fun. A late night and a dating-style app had already led you to explore things you never imagined—or maybe things you had imagined, but always felt too ashamed to admit.

And thankfully, no one knew—not even your best friends, Niall and Harry. But… they were guys. They’d judge you, wouldn’t they? You had that innocent, fluttery-eyelashes kind of personality. Sweet. Shy. Polite. The kind of girl people didn’t imagine doing those kinds of things.

You didn’t notice Harry behind you until hands landed gently on your hips.

You turned slightly, startled—but it was him. His eyes met yours, tipsy and a little flushed from the drink, waiting for a sign to back off. But you didn’t pull away. You kept dancing.

You let the beat guide your body, swaying—grinding just a little—without thinking. His hands stayed light on your waist, not pushing, just following your rhythm. You could feel the heat of him behind you, his breath near your hair, and it felt… electric.

You obviously knew Harry was hot—very hot. He turned heads wherever he went, though he didn’t seem to care much. He had his hookups, sure, but that was it. Sometimes he was even a bit of a nerd, saying things like “I’m focusing on my studies” with a straight face.

You’d met on the first day of college, in an intro class. You both made the same dumb joke at the same time, Niall laughed way too hard—and the rest was history. Neither of them had ever made a move on you. They treated you like a little sister, and you were fine with that.

Mostly.

Even though you sometimes fantasized about Harry, you knew he’d never looked at you that way.

But then—

You felt it.

Hard. Firm. Pressed against your lower back.

Your body went stiff for a second, heartbeat skipping.

Harry’s hands immediately loosened, as if he felt your change in energy. He leaned in, his voice strained and low.

“I—sorry,” he murmured, almost drowned out by the music.

You didn’t turn around. You didn’t move—just looked at him over your shoulder with those big, innocent eyes of yours, tilted your head slightly, and said, “Not a problem.”

But the voice that came out of you… it wasn’t the one he was used to. It was softer, lower—almost seductive. Something flickered in his expression, but before he could respond, you turned back around and kept dancing. Only this time, you pushed your skirt up just a little higher and let your body press even closer to his, your movements slower, more deliberate. Harry was stunned—eyes locked on your hips, trailing down to the curve of your ass. The way you were dancing lifted your skirt just enough to give him a teasing glimpse, and it was driving him insane. He was tipsy, warm all over, and this felt unreal—like some half-lucid dream he wasn’t supposed to be having.

The way you’d looked at him, the shift in your voice, the way you were moving now… it was all intoxicating. And as much as he tried to stay still, composed, decent—his body had other plans.

Especially the part of him that was now very clearly struggling to keep it together.

The next thing he knew, your phone had “accidentally” slipped from your hand.

Right. Accidentally.

You glanced at him briefly, as if to say this is your chance—as if you needed confirmation that this wasn’t just the booze talking, that the way he was looking at you wasn’t all in your head.

Then, slowly—painfully slowly—you bent down to pick it up.

Hips up. Skirt rising. Movements so calculated they were practically choreographed. And Harry couldn’t stop himself from staring, completely entranced as the fabric of your skirt lifted just enough to show your underwear—delicate, black, lace?

It wasn’t just him either. Anyone paying close enough attention would’ve caught the view. But Harry didn’t care. All he could think about was how your shy, sweet persona had just flipped inside out—and how badly he wanted to know what else you’d been hiding.

This wasn’t just tipsy flirting.

This was you showing him something.

And God, he wanted it.

Harry was frozen in place, every nerve in his body lit up, every ounce of control slipping. You stood up slowly, phone in hand, and glanced at him over your shoulder again.

That look. That look.

It was soft, sure—but beneath the flutter of your lashes was something that sent heat surging through him.

Then you did it.

Barely a movement, but unmistakable. You reached back, gently tugging your skirt down like nothing had happened, then leaned close to him—close enough that only he could hear.

“Too crowded here,” you said “Can you walk me back?”

You didn’t wait for a reply. You just slipped your hand into his, gave it the faintest squeeze, and started weaving through the crowd toward the door—your pace casual, like it wasn’t the most dangerous thing either of you had ever done. Both looked back to check on Niall but he was very focused on trying to flirt with a girl so you knew he would be okay.

Harry followed, heart pounding, still half in disbelief.

But this wasn’t a dream.

This was real.

You led him across campus, the night air cool against flushed skin. Your dorm wasn’t far, but the walk felt like forever—like something was building with every second of silence, every quick glance you threw over your shoulder to make sure he was still there.

And he was.

God, he was.

When you reached the door to your building, you finally stopped, turning to face him. The soft porch light washed over your features—your flushed cheeks, parted lips, slightly messy hair. You looked like trouble wrapped in something sweet, and he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this version of you, but he wasn’t going to mess it up.

You tilted your head—that same tilt from the party—and whispered, “You coming in? I have something to show you.”

“Something to show me?” he asked, genuinely confused. In his head, there was still the possibility that this was all just a misunderstanding—something the alcohol had twisted into more than it was.

“Yes... want to see?” you said, swaying a little, that innocent softness still clinging to your voice.

“O-Okay,” he said, still unsure, but following.

You unlocked the door, stepped inside—and he followed.

Once inside, the room was dark. You quickly made your way to your desk and turned on the small lamp. Its warm glow filled only a corner of the room, casting soft shadows and letting just enough light reveal the space between you.

When you turned around, Harry was standing still by the door, watching you quietly. Waiting. Expecting you to actually show him something.

And that’s when you hesitated—for the first time.

The walk had sobered you just enough to let a flicker of anxiety creep in. What if he judged you? What if this entire thing had been a mistake? That small voice in your head, the one that always made you second-guess, started to whisper.

But you took a breath. Looked at him again.

Harry would never judge you.

And just like that—you let those thoughts go.

“What… what are you going to show me?” he asked, still testing whether this was real or some alcohol-fueled fantasy his brain hadn’t shaken off.

You looked at him, blinking slowly.

Then, without a word, your hands slid behind you, fingers finding the zipper of your skirt. You unzipped it slowly, the quiet sound somehow louder in the stillness of the room. The fabric slipped down your hips and pooled softly around your ankles.

You didn’t say anything.

Just stood there, watching him.

Harry froze.

His eyes dropped immediately to the black lace underwear he’d only gotten a glimpse of earlier. Now he could see it fully—delicate and perfectly framed in the warm light. His lips parted, stunned, like his brain couldn’t quite catch up to what was happening.

“I know you got a peek earlier,” you said, casually—like you were talking about classes or the weather. “Figured maybe you wanted a better look.”

Harry blinked, still frozen in place. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, almost in disbelief, like he was waiting for the punchline to a joke that never came.

“You’re serious,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

You tilted your head again, that same soft, unbothered expression on your face. “I wouldn’t have brought you here if I wasn’t.”

That seemed to knock something loose in him. He ran a hand through his curls, exhaling like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath.

“You look sinful” he murmured, his voice lower now, rougher.

You took a step closer, slow and sure, like you were testing the weight of the moment. “You never looked at me like this before.”

“I didn’t think I could,” he admitted, voice thick. “You were always just… off-limits.”

“Am I still?”

That question hung in the air between you—warm, heavy, dangerous.

Harry’s eyes searched yours, as if trying to find even a trace of hesitation. But you didn’t flinch.

“No,” he said finally, taking a slow step toward you. “I guess?.”

He pulled you in slowly, giving you a chance to stop him.

But you didn’t.

Your hands came up to rest on his chest, feeling the tension under his skin, the heat radiating off of him.

When he kissed you, it was soft at first like he was afraid to break whatever spell you’d both fallen under. But then you kissed him back, and everything changed. The pressure deepened. His fingers gripped you tighter. And neither of you wanted to come up for air.

Harry's hands gripped your waist like he was trying to steady himself, like one more second without you would tip him over the edge. But it was you who pushed things further. You pressed your body fully against his, your lips moving with his in slow, deliberate motions. His breath hitched when you tugged gently at his bottom lip with your teeth before diving back in, deeper this time.

His knees almost buckled.

“You okay?” you whispered between kisses, voice feather-light but laced with mischief.

Harry let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours. “Yeah. Just… trying to catch up.”

You smiled, trailing your fingers down his chest, slowly undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt like it was second nature. “I get it. You thought I was all shy and innocent.”

His hands slid up your back, but he was still looking at you like he didn’t know what planet he’d landed on. “Weren’t you?”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, letting your lips brush just beneath his ear before whispering, “Not behind closed doors.”

Harry swallowed hard, like that one sentence alone short-circuited something in his brain.

You pushed him gently until the backs of his legs hit your bed, then leaned in again, lips brushing over his, slow and teasing. “Take a breath, H,” you said softly, almost condescending in the sweetest way. “You look like you’re about to fall apart, and I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

That did it.

His hands gripped your thighs as he sat down, eyes locked on yours like you were some kind of vision—and maybe you were. You straddled him, settling into his lap, the lace of your underwear pressing against the heat of him through his jeans. He hissed quietly, head falling back slightly.

“I—fuck,” he muttered, hands flexing on your hips.

“Still think I’m too innocent?” you asked, grinding down slowly, intentionally.

Harry groaned, his eyes fluttering shut, jaw tight. “Jesus, no. Not even close.”

You leaned forward, kissing his throat, your voice honey-sweet but commanding. “Good. Now let me show you what else you were wrong about.” Harry’s hands were on your thighs now, gripping like they were the only thing grounding him to the moment. His chest rose and fell beneath you, shirt halfway off, eyes glassy. You rolled your hips slowly, just enough pressure to make him shiver under you. His breath hitched, and you smiled.

He really wasn’t ready for you.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt and slid it the rest of the way off his shoulders. He helped, barely, dazed and pliant. When it hit the floor, your hands smoothed over his chest, trailing down his stomach, watching the way his muscles twitched under your touch.

“I think you like this,” you murmured, voice thick, teasing. “Being taken apart like this.”

His eyes fluttered open, wide and needy. “I—yeah. I do. Fuck.”

You leaned in and kissed him again, slower this time, deeper. One of your hands slipped down between your bodies, brushing over the growing bulge in his jeans. He gasped softly into your mouth.

Your lips curved against his. “You’re so easy to read, H.”

His head dropped back, a low groan leaving his throat. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

“Maybe,” you whispered, fingers working at his belt now. “But I’ll be sweet about it.”

His hands found your hips again, this time with more intention, but still not taking control. He didn’t want to. He didn’t need to.

He wanted to be unraveled by you.

Your belt work was slow, deliberate. Each movement dragged out to build anticipation, and when the buckle finally clinked open and you eased his jeans down just enough, his breath caught like he might actually fall apart from just that.

You leaned back just enough to look down at him—his flushed cheeks, pink parted lips, the tension in his jaw, his hands flexing against your hips like he didn’t know whether to hold you still or beg you to move.

“You look so pretty like this,” you whispered, gaze dark and steady. “Letting me have all the control.”

Harry whimpered—whimpered—and you felt it. That shift. That surrender.

And with a smile, you rocked forward again, lace dragging slow and soft over him, your lips brushing his ear.

“Let’s see how long you can keep it together.”

You sank to your knees slowly, never breaking eye contact, your hands gliding over him in a deliberate path across his chest, down the ridges of his abdomen until you reached the elastic of his briefs. For a moment, you paused there. Just looking at him. His chest was rising and falling fast, every breath sharp with anticipation. His cock twitched beneath the thin fabric, straining, betraying just how undone he already was—all because of you.

Your fingers curled into the waistband, and you tugged it down inch by inch. He lifted his hips instinctively, making it easier for you, and then—finally—he was bare.

Hard. Throbbing. The flushed tip already slick with pre-cum.

Your lips parted, your breath catching for a beat. He was big—definitely bigger than average—but exactly the way you liked them.

You let saliva pool in your mouth before letting a heavy drop fall onto the head. It glistened as it ran down the shaft. Slowly, you smeared it with your lips, like you were applying lipstick, deliberately slow and messy.

The sound that left him was small—almost pathetic—but it made your chest tighten with satisfaction.

“May i?” you asked almost mocking him “Yes…God yes!” You glanced up at him again, lips still glistening from your own spit, and the way his eyes locked on you made heat coil low in your stomach.

“Poor thing,” you murmured, fingers wrapping around him, your thumb brushing lazily over the wet tip. “Already falling apart and I’ve barely touched you.”

He made another soft, strangled sound, his hands flexing like he didn’t know whether to grab your hair or just fist the sheets to keep from falling over.

You stroked him slowly, deliberately, watching his jaw tighten with each pass. Every little twitch, every uneven breath—you took it in, feeding off it.

“You always look so in control, Harry,” you said, voice low and teasing. “Guess not with me, huh?”

His lips parted. “Y/N…” It came out as more of a plea than your name, and you smiled.

You leaned forward, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his shaft, then another, lower this time. Each one made him shudder, the muscles in his stomach flexing under your touch.

When your mouth finally closed around him, just the head at first, he gasped—sharp, almost startled—and his hand finally found your hair. Not pulling, just holding, like he needed to keep you there.

You hummed softly, letting the vibration run through him, and his hips jerked just slightly.

“Mmh,” you pulled back just enough to speak, lips brushing his skin, “I told you… not so innocent.”

Then you sank lower, taking more of him into your mouth, savoring the way his head tipped back, throat exposed, completely at your mercy. You set a steady rhythm, your hand working in time with your mouth, twisting just enough to make his breath hitch. Every little sound he made—every soft curse, every shaky inhale—just made you want more.

His fingers tightened slightly in your hair, but you didn’t give him the chance to guide you. You pulled back until only the tip rested against your lips, swirling your tongue around it lazily before sinking down again, a little deeper this time.

“Fuck…” he groaned, the word spilling out before he could stop it. His hips twitched like they wanted to thrust, but he held himself back.

You pulled away entirely, letting him fall from your lips with a wet sound, and looked up at him through your lashes. “You can’t move unless I tell you to.”

He stared at you, dazed, pupils blown wide, and just nodded.

“Good boy.”

You wrapped your lips around him again, deeper this time, until you felt the heavy weight of him press against the back of your throat. He cursed again, louder now, his free hand curling into the edge of your desk like he needed something to hold onto.

When you pulled back this time, a thin string of spit connected your lips to him, and you wiped it away slowly with your thumb, never breaking eye contact. “You’re already close, aren’t you?”

He swallowed hard, his voice rough. “Yeah…”

“Then you better hold it,” you said, your tone low and commanding, “because I’m not done with you yet.”

His jaw flexed, like even that much restraint was torture.

You gave him one slow, deliberate stroke, squeezing just enough to make his knees nearly buckle. “Get on the bed,” you said softly—but there was no mistaking it as a request.

He obeyed without a word, you gave him a little push to make him lie back fully, his head sinking into your pillows.

From here, with his shirt rumpled open and his cock flushed and leaking against his stomach, he looked nothing like the always-collected Harry you were used to. He looked wrecked, but then again he also was looking into a whole different Y/n.

You climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips, the lace of your panties brushing over him just enough to make him groan.

“God, Y/N…” His hands twitched like he wanted to touch you, but he remembered your earlier words and kept them pressed to the mattress.

“That’s right,” you said, leaning over him until your lips hovered over his ear. “No touching unless I say.”

He shivered, and you smiled against his skin before kissing down his jaw, to his neck, then lower—your tongue tracing a slow line down the center of his chest.

You shifted your hips, dragging your clothed core over him again, and his head tipped back with a broken moan.

“Feel that?” you whispered, rocking against him again, slower this time.

His answer was just another desperate sound, and you could feel how hard he was beneath you, how much restraint it took for him to stay still. You sat up, hooking your fingers into the waistband of your panties. “You’ve been thinking about this since the dance floor, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” he admitted instantly, voice hoarse.

You slid the lace down your thighs, tossing it aside. “Then watch closely, Harry.”

You lined him up, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and sank down slowly—inch by inch—until he was buried deep inside you. Both of you gasped, the heat and tightness making his hands clutch at the sheets like a lifeline.

“Fuck—” he hissed, eyes squeezing shut.

“Uh-uh,” you murmured, cupping his jaw and making him look at you. “Eyes on me.”

You began to move, slow and deliberate at first, letting him feel every drag of you around him. His breathing turned ragged, his lips parting as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t form words. You kept your pace slow at first, loving the way his jaw clenched, how his eyes followed every movement of your body. But with every drag of him inside you, your own control began to slip. The stretch of him, the heat, the way he filled you perfectly—it was addictive.

Your rhythm faltered for a second, your breath catching in your throat, and Harry noticed instantly.

“Fuck… you feel incredible,” he rasped, his voice rough and reverent all at once.

You tried to smirk, to keep the upper hand, but another roll of your hips made your head tip back with a gasp. The sound that left you wasn’t planned—it was raw, needy—and it made Harry’s hands twitch.

You looked down at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Touch me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His big, warm hands came up to your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he helped guide you over him. The shift in angle made you cry out, your nails curling into his chest for balance.

“That’s it… good girl,” he murmured, and the praise sent another shiver of heat straight to your core.

Your dominance slipped further with every thrust, your hips moving faster now, chasing the friction you needed in your clit. His hands roamed—over your thighs, up your waist, then cupping your breasts through the lace, thumbs brushing your hardened nipples.

You whimpered, rolling your hips down hard, and his grip tightened like he was desperate to keep you there.

“Harry—” you breathed, your voice breaking on his name.

His eyes were blown wide, his mouth parted, looking at you like you were the most stunning thing he’d ever seen. “You’re so wet for me… You look so pretty fucking yourself on me…”

Your head dipped, your lips finding his in a kiss that was messy and hungry, all teeth and gasps between thrusts. His hands slid up your back and into your hair, holding you there as his hips started meeting yours, fucking up into you. The bed creaked beneath you both, the pace now frantic, the sound of your bodies plapping was all you could hear.

You were gone—no more careful control, no more teasing—just the feeling of him deep inside you, hitting exactly where you needed, your moans growing louder as you chased your high. Your moans mixed with his, the air between you hot and dizzying. Harry’s hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, his rhythm now matching yours—deep, desperate thrusts that made your stomach tighten and your nails drag over his skin.

“Y/N… fuck, I’m not gonna last,” he groaned, his voice breaking, eyes flicking down to where you were joined like he couldn’t believe it was real.

The sound of his voice, low and wrecked, sent another surge of heat through you. You ground your hips down harder, chasing the exact spot inside that made your legs shake. “Don’t—don’t stop,” you gasped, almost pleading.

His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles that had your vision blurring. Your head tipped back, a strangled sound leaving your lips as pleasure started to coil so tightly you felt like you might snap.

“Taking me so well..,” he panted, his own voice raw with need. “Fuck fuck fuck….”

You leaned down to kiss him again, but it was sloppy, both of you panting into each other’s mouths. He was everywhere—hands, lips, body pressing into yours—and it was overwhelming in the best way.

The tension inside you finally broke, your orgasm crashing over you so hard it tore a loud, shameless cry from your throat. Your walls clenched around him, and you felt him shudder violently beneath you, his own release hitting.

“Y/N—” he groaned, spilling inside you as his hips jerked erratically, holding you down on him like he never wanted to let go.

You stayed there, both of you trembling, foreheads pressed together, the only sound your uneven breathing. The warm light of the lamp made everything feel unreal, like the room was spinning but safe at the same time.

When you finally pulled back enough to look at him, he was smiling—soft, dazed, and a little in awe.

You collapsed forward onto his chest, both of you still catching your breath, his heartbeat hammering under your cheek. Harry’s arms came around you automatically, holding you like you might slip away if he didn’t. For a while, neither of you said anything. The only sound in the room was the slow, uneven rhythm of your breathing. Your body still tingled, muscles loose and heavy, and Harry was warm—too warm—but you didn’t move.

You shifted, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him, his curls were plastered to his forehead, lips still parted, eyes half-lidded in that dazed post-orgasm haze.“So,” he said softly, “I guess ...you had something hidden.”

You huffed a laugh, cheeks heating, but his tone was more curious than teasing. “Guess so,” you murmured, trying to look away.

“Y/N,” he said more seriously, catching your chin so you’d meet his eyes. “That was… unexpected.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, fiddling with the sheet between your fingers. “I know. I just—” You hesitated, biting your lip. “I’m not really the ‘good girl’ people think I am. Not all the time.”

His brows lifted slightly, but there was no judgment in his gaze—just interest. “Fooled me,” he said with a little laugh, his thumb brushing your cheek. “So, was this… a one-time ‘not-so-innocent’ thing?”

You smirked at that, leaning closer until your lips almost touched his. “Depends,” you whispered. “Do you want it to be?”

Harry let out a low laugh, pulling you back into him. “Oh, I think we’ll need to discuss that… thoroughly.”

Still, under the warm light, as his fingers traced patterns on your back, you felt that flicker of awareness—tomorrow, there might be questions. From him and maybe even from yourself.

But right now, wrapped up in Harry, you weren’t ready to answer them just yet.

taglist: @hermionelove @mads3502

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this-is-tiny-mia · 6 days ago

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Loved this soft dom reader! Would love to see more of them🙂‍↕️

🥰🥰 thank you so much!! Maybe I can do one more part 🤭

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this-is-tiny-mia · 7 days ago