because i do have, and some of my smuts are have armpit kinks. and if u guys does have, i will put more on my upcoming smuts! comment below if u have request!
It all started two years ago, when my dad married her mom. Sana. The moment she walked into our house for the first time, I knew I was fucked—in every possible way.
She was twenty-seven then, I was twenty, and she carried herself like she owned the air around her. Long dark hair cascading down her back, those sharp cat eyes that always seemed to know too much, and a body that could stop traffic: tiny waist, full perky breasts, round ass, endless legs. But it wasn’t just the way she looked. It was the way she looked at me.
From day one, she teased. Not obvious, not loud—just subtle enough that only I would notice. She’d stretch in the living room in a cropped tank, arms high above her head, shirt riding up to expose the smooth, pale hollows of her armpits. She’d catch me staring and hold the pose a second longer, lips curving into a tiny smirk before dropping her arms like nothing happened. She’d ‘accidentally’ brush past me in the kitchen, her breast pressing softly against my arm, or lean over the counter to grab something, shorts riding up just enough to flash the bottom curve of her ass. Every time our eyes met afterward, she’d give me that look—half-lidded, tongue tracing her lower lip, like she was daring me to do something about it.
I never did. I just stole glances. Constantly. At dinner, watching her fork slide between those glossy lips. In the hallway, tracing the sway of her hips. Late at night, when I’d hear her door creak open and soft footsteps padding to the bathroom, I’d imagine her in there, naked under the shower, water running down every perfect inch.
And the fancams. God, the fancams. Especially her concerts. Sana on stage in that black cropped halter top, low-rise cargo pants hanging dangerously low on her hips, abs glistening under the lights. The way she rolled her body slow and filthy during the chorus, hips popping side to side, staring straight into the camera with that dominant, seductive smirk—tongue peeking out, eyes saying come and get me if you dare. I’d watched those clips hundreds of times, volume low, hand wrapped tight around myself, biting my lip to stay quiet.
Until the night she caught me.
It was late, house silent, parents long asleep. I was in my room, door cracked because I was reckless when I was desperate. Phone propped up, headphones in, those her concerts fancams on loop.
Sana grinding slow, sweat shining on her collarbones, arm raised high, so the camera caught the flawless line of her armpit as she danced. My shorts were around my thighs, hand moving fast, breath ragged. I was so close.
Then the door opened wider.
I froze. Heart slammed against my ribs. There she was—Sana, leaning against the doorframe in tiny silk sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt slipping off one shoulder. Arms crossed under her chest, head tilted, that same smirk from the fancam now aimed directly at me. Her eyes dropped to my lap, lingered, then flicked back up.
I scrambled to cover myself, stammering apologies, face burning. But she didn’t yell. She pushed the door shut, locked it with a soft click, and walked toward me barefoot, slow and deliberate.
“Shhh,” she whispered, finger to her perfect lips. “Don’t stop on my account, little brother.”
She crawled onto the bed, knelt beside me, and gently pulled the blanket away. I was still hard, throbbing, exposed. She looked her fill, biting her lower lip.
“So, this is what you do every night?” Her voice was low, silky, dangerous. She glanced at my phone—paused on her own face mid-dance, armpit on full display. “Jerking off to noona’s Lollapalooza stage… imagining it’s me touching you?”
She leaned in, breath warm against my ear. “You love when I raise my arms like that, don’t you? Seeing my armpits… so smooth, so bare. You stare every time I stretch.”
I couldn’t speak. Could only nod, ashamed and aching.
Her hand wrapped around me—soft, warm, confident. I groaned loud enough to scare myself.
“Poor baby,” she cooed, stroking slow from base to tip, thumb circling the slick head. “All worked up for your big sister and handling it alone. Do you need noona’s help?”
“Yes—please—” The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
She smiled, triumphant, and started edging me mercilessly. Slow strokes, fast twists, stopping completely when my hips bucked and I whimpered on the brink. Again and again, until I was shaking, leaking, begging.
“Please, Sana… noona… I’ll do anything…”
She peeled off her clothes in one fluid motion—naked now, flawless in the moonlight. Breasts full and perfect, nipples hard, waist tiny, pussy already glistening. She straddled me, slid her wet folds along my shaft without letting me inside, grinding slow.
“Feel how soaked I am?” she moaned softly, rocking her hips. “Two years of teasing you… catching you stare at my body… I’ve wanted this too.”
I begged harder—voice hoarse, desperate—for her to let me in.
Finally she sank down, taking every inch raw. We both gasped. She rode me slow at first, breasts bouncing, nails digging into my chest as she kissed me deep and filthy, tongue dominating mine.
But the more I thrust up, the more her control slipped. Soon she was whimpering, moaning into my mouth, “Fuck—yes, deeper—”
I flipped her onto her back, missionary, pounding hard. Hands everywhere—squeezing her breasts, pinching nipples until she arched and cried out, gripping her waist, thumbs tracing the flare of her hips. I buried my face in her raised arm as she clutched the headboard, inhaling the clean, warm scent of her skin, licking the smooth hollow of her armpit obsessively as I drove into her.
She screamed my name—high, broken—pussy clenching as she came. I followed seconds later, pulling out just in time to cum thick ropes across her stomach and breasts, painting her body white. She rubbed it into her skin slowly, eyes locked on mine, licking a stray drop from her finger.
“Mmm… this is our secret now” she whispered, pulling me down for one last slow kiss.
We fell asleep tangled, exhausted.
—
Morning light woke me. She’s already gone. My bladder screamed. I stumbled out of bed naked, morning wood heavy and aching, and headed for the bathroom.
The door was cracked. Steam poured out. Sana was inside, fresh from a shower, towel loosely wrapped, brushing her teeth. She saw me in the mirror—naked, hard—and her eyes darkened instantly.
She spat, rinsed, dropped the towel without a word. Naked again, water droplets still clinging to her skin.
“Get in here,” she said, voice husky.
I stepped inside. She pushed me against the door, kissed me hard, hand wrapping around my cock and stroking firmly.
“Morning wood for noona?” she murmured against my lips. “You gonna fuck me again before breakfast?”
I groaned into her mouth. She turned, braced her hands on the sink, arched her back. “Take me. Right now.”
I slid into her from behind—wet, tight, perfect. The mirror fogged as we moved, her breasts swaying with each thrust, moans echoing off tile.
“Harder,” she gasped. “Fuck me like you did last night—make me feel it all day!”
I gripped her hips, slammed deep. One hand reached around to rub her clit, the other sliding up to cup a breast, thumb flicking the nipple. She whimpered, pushed back to meet every thrust.
“Yes—yes—right there—oh fuck—”
She came with a sharp cry, pussy fluttering around me. I pulled out, spun her around, lifted her onto the counter, and thrust back in face-to-face. Legs wrapped around my waist, arms around my neck, we kissed messily as I pounded.
“Cum on me again,” she begged breathlessly. “Mark me before Mom and Dad see us at breakfast.”
I did—pulling out to paint her tits and stomach once more, watching her rub it in with a satisfied moan.
We showered quick after—hands still wandering, kissing under the spray—then dressed and went downstairs like nothing happened.
—
Breakfast was quiet. Parents chatting about their plans. Then, miracle: “We’re heading out for the day—date day, just us. You two behave.”
The front door shut. Car pulled away.
Silence.
Sana looked across the table at me, lips curving slow and wicked.
“Finally,” she said, standing. “Come with me.”
She grabbed my hand and dragged me upstairs to her room, locked the door behind us.
She pushed me to sit on the edge of her bed, stood in front of me, and started stripping slow—tank top first, revealing those perfect breasts, nipples already hard. Then shorts, kicking them aside. Naked, confident, dominant.
“I need to tell you something,” she said, voice low. “I didn’t just catch you last night by accident. I’ve wanted you for years. Every tease, every flash, every time I caught you staring at my body when I stretched… I did it on purpose. I’ve been waiting for you to break.”
She walked to her closet, pulled out a locked box, opened it. Inside: silk ropes, nipple clamps, vibrator, plug, paddle, candle, ice tray, blindfold.
“I want you to use these on me,” she said, eyes burning. “I want you to tie me up, tease me, hurt me, fuck me raw until I can’t think. I want full-on rough BDSM. Right now. All day.”
I stared, cock already straining. “Sana… noona… I don’t have condoms. You know if we start this, you’re gonna be insane all day. I’ll be filling you over and over—”
She stepped close, straddled my lap, ground against me. “That’s exactly what I want. Raw. Deep. Every drop inside me. No pulling out once we start. I’m on the pill. I need to feel you flood me again and again.”
She kissed me hard, tongue invading, moaning into my mouth. “Please, little brother. Dominate your noona. Make me scream.”
I hesitated one last second—then snapped.
I stood, lifted her, tossed her onto the bed. She gasped, laughed breathlessly.
I grabbed the silk ropes, tied her wrists to the headboard—tight but safe. Spread her legs wide. She was fully exposed, pussy glistening, chest rising fast.
I blindfolded her next. “You’re mine now, noona.”
She whimpered, “Yes—fuck, yes.”
I grabbed the ice tray. Trailed a cube slowly up her inner thigh—she shivered, moaned low. Circled her nipples until they were rock hard, dripping water. Pressed one directly to her clit—she screamed, hips bucking.
“Cold—too cold—oh god don’t stop—”
Then the candle. Lit it, tilted carefully. Hot wax dripped onto her stomach—she arched, cried out sharp and needy. More drops across her breasts, over clamped nipples (I attached them slowly, chain tugging as she writhed).
“Fuck—that's so good—more—”
I alternated: ice on her clit while hot wax hit her thighs. Her body was a canvas of sensation—goosebumps, red wax trails, sweat starting to sheen her skin despite no licking yet.
I leaned down, kissed her deep, swallowing her moans. Then missionary—sliding into her raw in one slow thrust.
She screamed into my mouth—“Finally—fuck me hard!”
I started slow, deep, letting her feel every inch. Hands roamed: squeezing wax-flecked breasts, tugging the clamp chain until she sobbed with pleasure, tracing her waist, thumbs pressing into hip bones. I raised one of her bound arms higher, buried my face in her armpit—clean, warm, intoxicating—inhaling deep, licking the smooth skin as I thrust harder.
“You smell so fucking good,” I growled. “These armpits drive me insane—every time you flashed them, I wanted to bury my face here while I fucked you.”
She moaned louder, “Do it—taste me—use me—”
I pounded faster, bed creaking, wet sounds filling the room. Her pussy clenched rhythmically, dripping around me.
“Harder—please—wreck me—”
I obliged—hips slamming, one hand lightly around her throat, the other twisting a clamp. She came with a broken scream, whole body convulsing, pussy gushing around my cock.
I didn’t stop. Kept thrusting through her orgasm, drawing it out until she was sobbing, “Too much—don’t stop—cum inside me—”
I did—deep, pulsing, flooding her as I groaned her name.
We stayed locked together, breathing hard. I removed the blindfold, kissed her slow and tender, tasting tears of overwhelm on her cheeks.
“You okay?” I whispered.
She smiled weakly, blissed out. “Never better. But we’re not done.”
I untied her wrists, massaging red marks. Then flipped her over—face down, ass up, knees under her. Retied wrists to headboard.
Her ass was perfect—round, flushed. I spanked—hard, sharp cracks echoing. Left handprint after handprint blooming red.
She screamed into the pillow, pushed back for more. “Yes—spank your slut sister—make it hurt—”
I paddled next—wooden smacks making her sob and beg. Then slid back inside her soaked pussy from behind, one hand fisting her hair, yanking her head back.
“Look at you,” I growled, pounding deep. “Tied up, ass red, pussy dripping my cum already. You love being used like this.”
“Yes—fuck yes—harder—ruin me—”
I reached under, vibrator on high pressed to her clit. She shattered again instantly—screaming, squirting, body shaking violently.
I followed, pumping another load deep inside her.
We collapsed sideways, still tied, my cock softening inside her. I held her close, kissing her neck, shoulders, whispering praise.
Hours passed like that—slow aftercare turning into more rounds. Missionary again with fresh wax and ice, her legs over my shoulders, armpits exposed for me to worship as I thrust slow and deep. Then doggy with relentless spanking until her ass was cherry red and she could only whimper.
By evening, she was limp, marked, full of me—wax flakes on her breasts, rope marks on wrists, handprints on her ass, cum leaking down her thighs.
We showered together one last time—gentle now, kissing under the water, hands soft.
As we dried off, she pulled me close, whispered against my lips:
“This is just the beginning, little brother. Every chance we get… I want more.”
The apartment door slammed shut behind them with a resounding thud, echoing through the dimly lit hallway like a declaration of war. Giselle's hand was still clamped around Ningning's wrist, her grip possessive and unyielding, fingers digging into the soft skin as she dragged her wife deeper into their shared space. The air was thick with the remnants of the club's haze—sweat, alcohol, and the faint pulse of bass that still thrummed in their veins. They'd both had one too many shots, the buzz making everything sharper, more intense.
Giselle spun Ningning around, pinning her against the bedroom door with her body, eyes blazing with a mix of fury and desire. "You think that was funny, huh? Flirting with those girls all night? Letting them touch you, kiss you like you weren't mine?" Her voice was a low growl, laced with jealousy that had been simmering since the moment she'd seen Ningning lean in for those light, teasing pecks on the lips of strangers at the club. Ningning's laughter had rung out then, playful and innocent, but to Giselle, it was a betrayal—a spark that ignited her possessive fire.
Ningning's breath hitched, her lighter hair tousled from the night out, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the thrill. "Giselle, baby, it was nothing— just fun—"
"Fun?" Giselle snarled, her free hand cupping Ningning's jaw roughly, forcing her to meet her gaze. "You're mine, Ningning. My wife. And tonight, I'm going to remind you exactly who you belong to." Her touches were possessive from the start—fingers tracing Ningning's collarbone with a grip that bordered on bruising, sliding down to squeeze her hip hard enough to make Ningning gasp. She leaned in, crashing their lips together in a drunk, messy kiss—deep and rough, tongues battling as Giselle poured her jealousy into every bite and suck. They were still fully clothed: Giselle in her tight black top and jeans that hugged her curves, Ningning in that short red plaid miniskirt with white lace trim and a cropped white top that had ridden up during the taxi ride home.
Ningning moaned into the kiss, her body arching instinctively toward Giselle's heat, but Giselle pulled back just enough to whisper against her swollen lips. "I'm going to claim every inch of you. Make you forget anyone else's touch." Her hands roamed possessively over Ningning's clothed body—gripping her ass through the skirt, pressing her thigh between Ningning's legs to grind against her core, eliciting a whimper that only fueled Giselle's fire.
They stumbled toward the bed, lips locked in another ferocious kiss, Giselle's hands yanking at Ningning's top possessively. "Off," she demanded, voice husky with need. She tugged the cropped white fabric up and over Ningning's head, exposing her bare breasts—nipples already pebbled from the cool air and anticipation. Giselle's eyes darkened as she tossed the top aside, her fingers immediately latching onto the zipper of the red plaid miniskirt. She pulled it down slowly at first, savoring the reveal, then yanked it off Ningning's hips in one swift motion, letting it pool at her feet. Ningning stepped out of it, kicking off her heels, leaving her in just the matching white lace panties that clung to her dampening folds.
Giselle's turn came next—Ningning's hands, trembling with a mix of nerves and excitement, reached for her wife's black top. She peeled it off inch by inch, revealing Giselle's toned torso and full breasts, nipples hardening under Ningning's gaze. Giselle shrugged it off impatiently, then shoved Ningning back onto the bed to shimmy out of her jeans, kicking them away along with her underwear until she was gloriously bare, her skin flushed and ready. Ningning's panties were the last barrier—Giselle hooked her fingers into the lace waistband and dragged them down her thighs, exposing her shaved, glistening pussy. She tossed them aside, leaving both of them completely naked, bodies humming with electric tension.
Giselle started gentle, as promised—climbing onto the bed to straddle Ningning's hips, her touches feather-light at first. Fingers ghosted over Ningning's arms, tracing the curves of her shoulders, down to her breasts where she circled the nipples without pinching, teasing until Ningning squirmed. "So beautiful," Giselle murmured, her voice softening momentarily as she leaned down to kiss Ningning's neck lightly, then her collarbone, her belly—lips brushing every inch of her abs, worshipping the smooth planes with tender licks. She even nuzzled into Ningning's armpits, inhaling her scent deeply, tongue flicking out to taste the salty skin there, making Ningning giggle and gasp in surprise. "All mine," Giselle whispered, hands skating lightly over her thighs, barely brushing her folds, building the ache with merciless patience.
But the gentleness didn't last. Giselle's jealousy resurfaced like a storm, and she reached for the black silk ropes tucked under the mattress—tying Ningning's wrists securely to the headboard, the knots tight enough to limit her movement but not cut off circulation. Ningning tugged experimentally, her eyes widening with a mix of fear and arousal. "Giselle... what are you—"
"Shh," Giselle cut her off, crashing their lips together in a deep, rough kiss—tongue invading, teeth clashing—as her hands turned greedy. She groped Ningning's breasts roughly, palms kneading the soft flesh hard, fingers pinching and twisting the nipples until Ningning arched off the bed with a sharp whimper.
"Ah—Giselle—that hurts—"
"Good," Giselle growled, her mouth descending to worship every curve with brutal intensity. She kissed and bit Ningning's belly, sucking marks into her abs, tongue dipping into her navel before trailing lower. But she didn't neglect the rest—lifting Ningning's arms slightly to bury her face in one armpit, licking and sucking the sensitive skin there roughly, making Ningning squirm and moan loudly.
"Oh god—Giselle—please—"
Giselle's fingers plunged into Ningning's soaked pussy without warning—two at first, then three—curling hard against her G-spot while her thumb ground relentlessly on her clit. The fingering was merciless, rough thrusts that had Ningning's hips bucking wildly, her bound arms straining against the ropes. "You like that, don't you? My little slut, getting wet for me after teasing everyone else."
Ningning's moans turned to screams as the first orgasm built. "F-fuck—Giselle—I'm gonna—ahh!" But Giselle edged her cruelly, pulling her fingers out just as Ningning teetered on the brink, leaving her clenching around nothing.
"No, not yet," Giselle teased, her touches turning light again—fingertips ghosting over Ningning's throbbing clit, barely brushing her folds. "You don't get to cum until you admit you're mine. All mine."
Ningning whimpered, hips chasing the touch desperately. "Please—Giselle—let me cum—"
"Suck," Giselle commanded, shoving her slick fingers into Ningning's mouth. Ningning obeyed, sucking hard, tongue swirling around them greedily, tasting herself with a muffled moan. "That's it, good girl. Taste how wet you are for your wife."
"You're such a possessive bitch," Ningning gasped around the fingers, her voice defiant yet needy. "But fuck—I love it—own me—"
"Oh, I will," Giselle snarled, yanking her fingers free and slamming them back inside Ningning's pussy, pumping hard and fast. She edged her again—building the pressure until Ningning was screaming, "Giselle—please—I'm yours—let me cum!"—only to pull back at the last second, repeating the cruel cycle three more times.
Ningning begged relentlessly, her body betraying her addiction to the possessiveness—thighs trembling, pussy dripping onto the sheets. "Stop—Giselle—can't take it—ahh, but don't stop—fuck, I need it—I'm addicted to you—"
"Admit it properly," Giselle demanded, her free hand groping Ningning's breast roughly while she fingered her to the edge once more. "Who do you belong to?"
"You—my wife—Giselle—please—I'm yours—only yours!" Ningning screamed, tears streaming down her face.
Giselle finally relented, thrusting her fingers deeper, harder—thumb flicking Ningning's clit mercilessly. The first orgasm crashed over her like a wave, Ningning's body convulsing as she squirted hard, clear fluid soaking Giselle's hand and the bed. "Yes—fuck—Giselle—I'm cumming—ahhh!"
But Giselle was relentless, forcing a second squirting climax before the first faded—Ningning's screams echoing, "Too much—stop—but god, more—!"—then a third, her body shaking uncontrollably, squirting again and again in rapid succession.
By the end, Ningning was a sobbing, spent mess—wrists raw, body glistening with sweat and release. Giselle untied her gently, pulling her into a possessive embrace. "Mine," she whispered, kissing her lips deeply and possessively. Ningning nodded weakly, devouring the kiss and whispering back, "Always yours."
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