KINKTOBER WEEK 1: Humiliation! (Patreon)

HIIIII!! THIS ONE IS COMING AT YOU QUICK BC I HAVE TO WORK THIS WEEKEND, SO I DIDN'T WANT TO PUSH IT OFF UNTIL NEXT WEEK!

SOMEONE a while ago asked me to write more established couples sometimes, so these two are established as well!! BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN ALL OF THESE KINKS ARE GOING TO BE COUPLED UP ALREADY; WE'LL GET SOME STRANGERS TO LOVERS, FRIENDS TO LOVERS, ENEMIES TO LOVERS TYPE SHIT GOING ON TOO!!

ALSO I FORGOT TO ASK, but if there are any couples you'd like to see for any of these kinks, just let me know! you can comment them on the OG kinktober post or any of the kinktober posts here!! I'm pretty flexible with what couples go where!

ALSO, I feel like humiliation and degradation go hand in hand, so there's some degrading in here too! And a mention of watersports hehe

OKAY LOVE YOUUU!!!

(3.6k+ words)

i.

Harry used to feel guilty for this. 

Like, seriously – it used to be low-key kind of keeping him up at night. Before Y/N, he’d been relatively vanilla; sex was about intimate connection, missionary, moaning and groaning, but opening your mouth to say that you love the other person so deeply. And it’s still about that, sure, but Y/N had opened him up to a completely different world of intimacy that he had known existed but never knew he could be a part of. 

And honestly, he really liked it. More than he thought he would, when he told her he would try it. Talking dirty, and grabbing her roughly, and spanking her bum when he deemed her naughty. The hardest he’s ever cum is when he’d been edging her for hours and when he finally let her orgasm crash over, she squirted all over him, and cried. Harry came so hard that his vision went white, and when he came back, Y/N was all sniffles and whining, and he thought she was so cute he wanted to eat her up. There was a different level of love and trust that they had with each other, that Harry had never had with previous partners. 

So, when Y/N told him that she was into being humiliated. . .well, he heard her out on it. 

Because when Harry hears the word humiliation, there are a couple of images that flash through his mind: asking someone out only for them to laugh in your face and reject you (in front of a class of shitty secondary schoolers), presenting something for your boss at work and your voice cracking like you just started puberty, tripping in front of a busy sidewalk and face planting with the bag of oranges you were forced to get toppling over and spilling out on the pavement – to name a few. It’s a yucky feeling that makes you want to curl away from the world and hide. Like, one of the few times you wish you were a six-eyed sand spider that could just flatten out and cover themselves at a moment's notice. Never has Harry considered getting hard from wanting to crawl out of his skin. 

Y/N likes it, though. Obviously, not in any of the contexts that his brain supplied him with when she mentioned it. She likes different things; like when Harry calls her a hopeless little thing while she’s trying to suck him off, or a needy slut when she’s begging for his cock. She likes when he mocks her for how her whines sound, and that one time he made her crawl around on all fours in the flat, because only “good girls get to walk like humans, not naughty puppies”. She likes when Harry makes her feel small, stupid, and desperate. The hardest she’s ever cum is when, once, he told her she couldn’t speak – that she could only meow like a little cat when she wanted something (obviously, they had a physical safe word in place). 

Sometimes Harry felt bad afterward. In the moment, he’d be so turned off he could barely think – all the blood having rushed straight to his prick. But afterward, he felt like the meanest prick alive. The guilt would pull him under, deep, deep, deep, until he looked it up and spoke to her about it afterward, and realized that they should be doing more aftercare. Like, Harry always cleaned her up afterward and cuddled with her, but there needed to be more verbal affirmations. A lot more coddling and petting her, telling her how good she did, waiting until she’s all soft and sweet on him, telling him how much she liked it and how much fun she had. 

Once they figured that out, it was really fun. Harry could have a lot of fun too – especially because he saw how turned on it made Y/N. How she clamps down on him when he calls her a whore is an experience that he can barely even describe. She’s just needy for it – wants it bad, and she told Harry that the best part of it is that she knew he didn’t really mean it. That she thinks he’s so sweet on her (he is), that it makes it more exciting when he’s a little mean to her, because his face is so soft and kind. And it makes the aftercare that much sweeter, because she doesn’t have to try hard to decipher where she stands with him; she knew that he loved her and cared about her, and all of that was just to get her off. 

Harry also figured out, soon enough, what Y/N would start doing when she wanted it. Because she’ll never just say it – that would ruin all her fun- is what she whines. So she gets bratty, acts out, does shit that she knows will annoy and irritate him until he snaps. Sometimes Harry plays into it and lets her get a rise out of him, snapping at her, grabbing her wrist, and tugging her back toward him. He’ll hold her down, swat her bum, and call her a filthy brat until her thighs are trembling and she’s stuffing her face into the pillow while she cries out. She’ll be the wettest little thing, so messy that you would’ve thought she’d been drenched all day over it. 

But other nights, Harry likes to pretend like he doesn’t notice. That drives Y/N up the wall, really, and her reactions afterward are always so much better. 

So Harry pretends not to notice tonight, when she starts being a brat. She turns her nose up at him and rolls her eyes when he offers to go get her another drink from the bar while they are out with their friends. She was all snuggled up with Niall instead of snuggled up with Harry in the booth at their table. She ignored him a little when the first two things didn’t work to get under his skin. She sent him a photo from the bar bathroom stall, blurry and smudged even though he knew she wasn’t drunk in the slightest, so she could very well take a proper photo – just of her chest, in that filthy little dress she’s wearing. 

And when that doesn’t work, she pokes his belly and bites his shoulder, his wrist, his hand. At some point, she sits in his lap, but refuses to stay still – wriggles and moves all over his thighs, even when he rests a hand on her thigh and digs his fingers in deep. Just a little warning, but Y/N only chuckles a little to herself and keeps moving. But then Harry does something she hates even more, and relaxes his hand – doesn’t try to hold her still or anything, just loops his arm around her loosely and leans back against the booth. 

Y/N can’t stand it. She even turned to look at him with her brows knitted, and all he does is smile softly at her. 

Harry keeps it up for as long as it takes them to get home. As soon as they step through the threshold of their foyer, Harry kisses her. Smears his mouth over hers, their lips wet and sticky from the drinks that both of them consumed. He sucks at her bottom lip, nibbles on it, and waits until she melts against his body like a second skin. Harry holds her close, walks them to their room, strips her out of her slutty little dress, but leaves her panties on. 

And then he pecks a kiss on her mouth before disappearing into their closet; he digs through their little toy chest and finds the silk rope, starting to unravel how they had it carefully knotted. When he emerges from the closet and Y/N sees the purple silk rope, she whines loudly, “Nooooooo,” she grunts, brows furrowing, “I hate the ropes.” 

She does hate the ropes, but she also knows what to say when she really doesn’t want something. Sometimes she’s just whining to whine, because she likes to, and Harry can tell from the way she holds her hands behind her back even though she’s pouting. “Hm, I don’t care,” he murmurs, carefully doing a double column tie, “You wanted to be a filthy whore in front of our friends, hm?” 

“I wasn’t –” 

“You were,” he cut her off, running his palms down from her shoulders to her biceps, down to her forearms. “But that’s okay. You wanted my attention, hm?” He loops around her, kicks off his shoes, and plops down onto the bed. “You’ve got it.” 

She’s cute like this – panting, tits out and soft, supple. If she’d been a good girl, then he would suck them into his mouth and nibble on them until she was pushing his head away. But he knew this was what she wanted – to feel small in front of him, embarrassed being the only naked one, not being able to use her hands, not really knowing what to do. Again, she pouts, readjusting her stance as she stands before him, “I – um. . .what – what do I do?” 

Harry chuckles, shaking his head softly, “Hm? You seemed to have a good idea while we were out, though?” 

Y/N whines again, shuffling forward so that she stands closer to him, between his parted legs. Harry keeps his hands on the mattress, palms flattened on their duvet. “Daddy –” 

“Ohhh, I’m Daddy now, huh?” He leaned back further, onto his elbows. “You need me to decide for you, yeah? I forgot sometimes you’re just my dumb little baby, aren’t you?” She whines, but despite what he says, she nods, agreeing. “C’mon, get my cock out then. You want to ride it?” 

She pulls at the rope behind her. “But I’m tied,” she frowns. 

“Well, since you were acting like a dog earlier with all that biting, I figured you could use your mouth.” 

Y/N fumbles to get on the ground, trying to drop to her knees carefully but still losing her balance and accidentally colliding face-first with his cock. He’s hard already – honestly, he’s been hard since she was wriggling in his lap – but he has to put up the front that he’s unbothered. That Y/N is just this desperate little thing that showed up at his doorstep; one that he had no choice but to indulge because she was just so pitiful, it’d be a crime not to. Once he described it like that to her and she moaned and shuddered so intensely, she thought she’d cum untouched.  

She does give it her best effort. Y/N is good with her mouth in other ways, but undoing a belt and button with her teeth is something she’s always been incapable of doing. An impossible task, especially for as complicated a belt as he has on right now, and the position they’re both in doesn’t make it any easier. She’s in a silly little half crouch with most of her body weight supported by the edge of the bed. The sounds she’s making are making his prick harder; he's listening to her fuss and whine, getting more and more frustrated. At some point, she’s really just chewing on the leather of his belt, tugging as much as she can with her teeth, but it isn’t working. 

Maybe it’s because he’d been ignoring all of her attempts previously to get him going, but when she looks up at him, all pitiful, her eyes are teary. Harry’s heart races, and he lets out a soft laugh even though his cock is throbbing, especially the more he feels her chin and presses against it in her attempts to free him. He reaches out to cradle her face, running his thumb across her cheek that would soon be sticky with tears. 

“You’re lucky you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, “'Cos you’re quite pathetic. Can’t even get my cock out by yourself.” Y/N shivers, nuzzling against his palm. “Daddy will do it then, since you can’t do anything right.” She looks shy, even as she presses closer, watching as Harry undoes his belt with one hand, and then his button and zipper. Y/N stands on wobbly legs when he fishes his cock out and then leaves it there, aching, drippy, and red on his belly. The shirt he’d worn tonight is shoved up a little, of his own design, not wanting to get it too sticky. She stumbles again, and Harry laughs as he reaches out to steady her before she can straddle him, “Mm, don’t you need to get your panties off?” 

The embarrassment is palpable off her as she struggles, using her fingers the best she can with how they’re tied to tuck them beneath the waistband and at least get them down to her thighs; she has to wiggle in place, moving her legs up and down to try and pull the fabric down. It does work, actually, but it’s a slow process – one that Harry watches with an intent gaze, and he can tell it’s making her even hotter, because the longer it takes her, the more humiliating it gets. Once they get to her knees, though, they finally puddle to the floor, and she can step out of the leg holes. 

She’s quick to straddle him, desperate, needy – Harry grins at her. 

“Keep going, baby,” he hums, “You’re almost there.” 

                                                                .                           .                     .

Y/N loves this. 

She loves everything about this, even though she feels silly and stupid – like the dumb, filthy little slut that he accuses her of being. Harry stares at her with this bored expression like she’s wasting his time while she fumbles, trying to get him inside her. Which is like super difficult, mind you, especially when her brain is already full of cotton and her arms are tied behind her back. He’s got them low enough that she can kind of pick up his shaft and hold him still, but backing up to actually sit on him is where she gets into trouble. Especially because she keeps accidentally thumping him against her bum, and Harry keeps teasing her about, “If you want me to fuck that pretty hole so badly, you should’ve just said something.” 

It’s humiliating in the best way – Y/N likes feeling like she can’t do anything alone. Likes when Harry snaps and just does it for her. It’s why she’d been such an egregious brat all night, but that was so Harry would be impatient and not make her wait as long for the payoff. But of course, he knew just how to weave himself beneath her skin and get her even more worked up than she could have dreamed of getting him. He’s all soft purrs and giggles, like this is nothing but humoring him. Like he’s watching an animal or something, trying its best to break into their food container. 

Y/N almost gets him inside. The tip presses against her hole, but she’s so slick, and he’s so slick that it just slips out, his cock hard enough to thud back against his stomach, and Y/N lets a defeated cry leave her mouth. The tears she can’t stop, even though she hates crying; the frustration has built past the point of no return. Harry knows what’s coming next, which is why he moves his arms out of the way for when she falls forward, not being able to brace herself, so she collides with his chest sort of hard. It makes both of them oof, but his arms wrap around her, rubbing her back. 

“I can’t,” she whines, “I’m sorry – I’m sorry for being a brat. Please, just help me, I can’t – I need it so bad, need you so bad, want to make you cum, help me! Help me make you cum.” She’s blabbering, and even that in itself is so embarrassing, sniffling and whimpering with each shaky breath. Harry shushes her and coos, rubbing up and down her back. 

“Shhh,” he hums, and Y/N can hear the mocking in his voice already, though the softness of it always makes her melt. He wasn’t even that mean this time, in his words or in his tone, but she can’t help but melt into him. Carefully, he reaches between them and takes hold of his cock, painting it up and down her slit, “Isn’t it easier to just let Daddy decide? Hm?” He inquires, pressing the tip inside her, and Y/N gasps, her thighs squeezing around his hips, “No need to be a slutty little brat, when all you have to do is ask nicely.” 

He wastes no time in being fully seated. It feels good – too good. Y/N can feel herself rapidly squeezing around him, wriggling down further so that his balls are tucked up against her bum. Harry always fills her up so well, keeps her stuffed and full, and her heart is racing so fast, rocking her hips on him. Her mouth smushes against his throat, kissing against his pulse, sucking at his skin. Harry lets her do what she wants for a little while, until he starts to press her away from him, “C’mon, let me see you,” he breathes, “Let me see you, pretty girl.” 

Y/N feels like her bones are made of lead, trying to hold herself up, but she tries because she’s a sucker for a compliment. She works her best, trying to ride him with no leverage to hold herself up. It’s difficult, focusing solely on her thighs, but trying is worth it when Harry is looking at her the way he is. His skin flushed down his neck, probably over his chest, but she couldn’t see it. Because he was still fully clothed and she was completely naked, which is yummy in its own way. 

His hands take hold of her waist, squeezing softly, pressing the pads of his thumbs against her hips. Harry lets her struggle for a little while, with no pace, clunky, and almost falling down a couple of times, before he stops her. 

“You’re pretty bad at this.” He tells her, and Y/N huffs – she couldn’t even argue with him; she definitely was. Her face feels warm, like she might melt. Especially when he’s got his head tilted, teasing her, “Do you need help, baby?” 

Y/N nods, shaking, and Harry scoots them both up the bed a little more, so he can plant his feet against the mattress. He reaffirms his grip on her hips and then fucks up into her with the umph of someone tired of waiting for something to be done right. Y/N moans, almost falls forward immediately, “A-ah! Oh my god, oh my god –” His hips move quickly, intensely, hard. Her face is all sticky with tears from before; her mouth is hung open. She thinks there’s probably no way she looks good right now, or sexy in the slightest – even her hair is probably all fucked up – but Harry’s looking at her like she was the most fuckable thing on the planet. 

“Fuck, yeah, just let me do all the work,” he murmurs, “Can’t do anything alone, that’s okay. I don’t mind helping a pretty, pathetic little thing like you.” Y/N topples forward again, and Harry lets it happen, keeping his grip on her tight as he fucks her. Her orgasm is burning through her lower belly, arousal dripping over her intensely. She squeezes around him again, so tightly, and she swallows hard, “Love, when you get like this. All desperate and needy – fuck – how many times do you think I can make you cum before you piss all over yourself again?” 

Y/N squawks, “H-hey,” she whines, but it’s hard to come up with a defense when she’s seconds from cumming, “That – one time! That happened one time, ugh –” It was only one time, like a month ago, and Harry came really hard afterward, but he hadn’t brought it up while he was fucking her since. To bring it up now – to remind her of how dirty she was, how wet she’d gotten, and most importantly, how embarrassed. She’d cried that night too, but never said her safeword – she sort of loved it, and was kind of wishing he’d do it again but didn’t know how to ask. 

“Yeah, just one time,” he laughs softly, pressing his nose against her head, “Silly little thing, can’t even control your bladder, huh? Need Daddy to handle that too?” 

She cums. It’s intense, shaking through her body while Harry fucks her through it. It’s one of those orgasms where her voice leaves her, her mouth opens, and no sound comes out for at least a couple of seconds before the noise that leaves her is guttural, belly-deep. Harry shushes her, pets her head, and still moves his hips until she starts jolting, oversensitive shocks zipping through her body. She can hear how much wetter she is, can feel it, pulsating around him, and Harry squeezes her between his arms. In a tight, tight hug as the tension leaves her body. Her arms are still pulled behind her back, but it doesn’t matter – it doesn’t hurt or anything, though she knew they’d be sore in the morning. 

“Was that good?” He inquired, and Y/N breathed out against him, nodding, pressing her tear-sticky face into his throat. “That’s good. I’m g’na fuck you until you forget your name, okay, Honey? Until you’re nothing but my dumb little kitten, no thoughts in that silly head.” 

Y/N shudders, squeezes around him again. 

She loves this.