Work Text:
what a humiliating predicament to be in. i, korea’s tenth s-rank, sung jinwoo. the man who's made monarchs drop to their knees in fear is being reduced to… this. a trembling, whimpering mess solely because he’s having his armpit licked like it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted.
his wrists are pinned above his head by a single one of your hands. god, he could break free in a heartbeat if he wanted to. with one flick of his wrist, a flex of his muscle, and you’d be the one on your back. but he doesn’t. he can’t. not when your tongue is gliding slowly and wet against the sensitive hollow of his armpit, every short hair is matted with sweat and saliva, tracing every ridge of muscle, lapping at the faint taste of salt on his skin like you’re addicted.
by the blush dusting over his cheeks, you can tell he despises how sensitive it is, and he hates how you know it. he hates how the first time you shoved his arm up and buried your face in it, he came violently in his pants like an untouched virgin.
he (unfortunately) remembers that night clear as day. he remembers how his whole body jerked, how the second your tongue pressed into the damp heat of his pit and dragged over it sensually, he damn near blacked out from how good it felt. his hips bucked up so roughly that it almost looked worrying, spilling hot and messy cum into his dress pants while you hadn’t touched him anywhere else. the shame burned hot.
and now you’re doing it again. exploiting that weakness like he’s your personal toy. you drag your tongue up the entire length of his raised arm, slow and deliberate, from the bottom of his pit all the way to where his arm meets his shoulder. the wet trail glistens under the dim light, and jinwoo’s breath hitches so hard it sounds like a sob.
“please..” jinwoo whimpers, voice cracking, eyes glassy with tears that refuse to fall due to pride and embarrassment. he turns his face away from you, as if attempting to dispel the reality of his situation.
“this is.. fuck- this is disgusting... stop..” his mouth says one thing, but his body says another. nipples pebbling hard beneath his black shirt, cock straining cruelly against his pants, already leaking, forming a damp spot that seems to grow with every flick of your tongue.
you chuckle against his pit, low and satisfied, inhaling the faint masculine scent. the sound vibrates through his body, sending shivers down his spine.
once again, jinwoo’s body betrays him. arching involuntarily into the wet heat of your mouth. the look of shame that painted his face was so electrifying. god, you needed to ruin him badly. ruin him to the point where any other form of stimulation was inefficient.
“look at you,” you murmur, voice husky with amusement, your lips brushing the edge of his armpit as you speak. “korea’s strongest whimpering like a slut just from having his armpit licked.”
a broken sound tears out of him. something too raw to be called a moan. his hips roll once, helpless, grinding against nothing. the wet spot on his pants has started to spread more, dark and obvious. the damp fabric clings to his cock.
you pull back in what seems to be awe to stare at him. the shiny saliva drips down his pit, the sudden loss of touch makes him twitch.
“tell me to stop again,” you say breathlessly. “go on. say it like you mean it this time.”
he open his mouth, but nothing but breath exits. his chest rises and falls all too fast, nipples peaked so sharply they’re visible through his thin black shirt, begging for attention he was too damn prideful to ask for.
you waited. one too many heartbeats. he whispers at last. ”please,” his voices cracks as he speaks the barely audible word. “please... don’t stop.”
you chuckle and lean back down to his pit. you reward him with a long, filthy lick that drags from the bottom of his pit all the way up again. he sobs outright this time, hips bucking uselessly, wrists straining against your grip. not to escape but to anchor himself as he wrecks himself with pleasure.
what a good boy.