Subby Men - Blog Posts

Would cream my pants tbh😋

Looking in her eyes and saying, “Make it hurt please.”

I am so sorry that my second post is just pure horny thoughts

Anyway! Thinking about doing some thing mundane like food prep or working at a standing desk and my boyfriend comes into the room begging to suck my cock/strap, telling him to be patient and wait, him getting on his knees and begging anyways giving in and telling him he can warm me instead. Cue him blissed out trying not to choke or gag as I work, shifting forward to pick up a something I “absolutely” needed. And after I finished my work he’s just a floaty puddle on the floor

Ugh kinda wanna get spit roasted by a straps/dicks 🤭

Not sure if I need ass on my dick. Or dick in my ass 🤭

It would be really nice to be tied up and fucked in the ass right now 🤭

SHHH! Library Rules.

college!nerd armin who sits one row behind you in a lecture and tries to focus on the slides but your thighs are just... right there. crossed, jiggling slightly as you bounce your leg out of boredom, little skirt riding up when you shift—he’s not even hearing the professor anymore. his notes are just bullet points that say:

thighs.

thighs???

fucking thighs.

and he gets so flustered, like he adjusts his big round glasses and pretends to take notes but his face is flushed and his jeans are getting uncomfortably tight...

later that night? he’s scrolling through his phone and lands on your post—it’s a mirror pic, a seemingly innocent story—but you’re sitting on your bed with one leg up and he snaps. doesn't even make it to his bed. he’s jerking off in his desk chair, moaning like he’s being tortured, trying to keep quiet as he strokes himself to the thought of your thighs wrapped around his head, suffocating him.

armin doesn't believe his ears when you ask him to study. flash a sweet little smile. tilt your head just a little bit. he's halfway through chewing on his pen cap when you lean over his desk and say, “hey, armin. wanna go over notes together at the library?”

his brain short circuits.

he literally forgets how to speak for a full second. then manages a weak, breathy, “yeah—uh. yes. i mean. i can. i’d like that.”

you thank him like it’s nothing. walk away like you didn’t just leave a smouldering crater in his chest. but you know exactly what you’re doing. because later that evening, you show up to the library in that skirt. the tiny pink one. and the thigh highs with the little bow at the top. like a sin made of silk and smugness.

you sit across from him. cross your legs real slow.

he swallows.

don’t look. don’t look. okay, you looked. fuck.

and swallows again when you lean forward, pretending to scan your textbook, the movement making your skirt ride just a little higher.

you’re no fool. you’ve been aware of armin’s situation for a while now. the way he covers his boner with his notebook when you glance over during lectures? adorable. you’ve caught him staring at you from across the common room at least a dozen times. and those dorm parties he claims he “hates”? yeah, he only ever shows up to sit beside you and pretend he’s not practically drooling at the smell of your perfume. you think it’s sweet, in a pathetic sort of way.

you decide to tease him. just to see how long he’ll keep the good boy act up for. how long before that polite, bashful smile cracks into something desperate. how long before he snaps.

you shift in your seat, the toe of your boot nudging his ankle under the table. he freezes. you feign ignorance. flip a page. rest your hand on your thigh, drawing slow, idle circles with your finger against the exposed skin. then, you let your leg drift sideways—just barely brushing his.

armin squirms in his chair. what do people even do in situations like this? his knuckles go white where he grips his pen. his legs squeeze together.

you don’t even look up. just mumble something about not understanding the chapter. and he’s nodding too fast. offering help with a cracked voice, eyes wide, flushed down to his collarbones.

he’s shaking. he’s dying. he’s hard.

you lean in even closer—close enough to count the individual lashes framing his eyes, pupils dilated. his breath is shaky, coming in short bursts, and you can practically feel his pulse racing.

his ocean eyes flicker down to your lips before darting back to yours, a silent invitation. his breath hitches as you inch closer, every nerve in his body firing at once. he wants this, wants you, but his mind’s a whirlwind—should he pull back? should he stay still and let the moment breathe?

and then, you kiss him. soft at first, giving him time to adjust. he lets out a heavy sigh against your lips. he tastes like something fruity—like strawberry flavoured gum. the kiss is sweet, subtle and tender, like a vanilla note mixed with a slight tang, like a soft citrus. but it quickly deepens, your hands roaming over his body, teasing the warm skin of his chest through his shirt. you make quick work of his buttons, slipping your hands inside, tracing the lines of his lean chest.

your fingers tweak his nipples, pulling a gasp from him. his hands immediately fly to your waist, pulling you closer. you can feel his body trembling beneath your touch, his chest heaving as he tries to steady himself.

“oh?” you smirk, getting closer, voice dripping with playful mischief. you do it again, only this time, your nails catch the fabric, teasing that soft spot until he can’t keep it together. “sensitive?”

he nods—his face is a mess. eyes wide, like he’s been caught in the worst way possible. but then? he whimpers. you can’t help but smirk at the sound, feeling the heat rising in your own chest.

your fingers tease at the hem of his shirt, touch feather-light but deliberate. his breath hitches, lips parting with a muted gasp when your nails graze the skin just above his waistband. he’s so responsive—every little touch draws out a sound. a whine. a strangled noise that barely makes it past his throat.

he shouldn’t be this turned on from a few light touches. his thighs are tensed like he’s trying not to rut up into you—like that would make this moment disappear. like it would scare you off. but god, it’s getting harder to stay still.

he can’t fully enjoy this. not really. he feels guilt—it’s heavy in his gut. it’s wrong, right? you’re just teasing him. he doesn’t deserve someone like you. but your touch, the way your leg brushes his, the way you’re looking at him like you know what you’re doing, making him lose his mind—it’s too much.

his fingers twitch. his dick aches for release, but he can't—he can’t—let himself go any further. not like this. not when he’s been fantasizing about this moment for weeks. he can’t just be this fucking needy. can’t be this much of a mess in front of you. it’s—

“i…” his voice cracks, just as he feels his heart slam in his chest.

“’min?” you tease, just a little too sweet, fingers tracing his thighs like you have all the time in the world.

“i have to tell you something,” he breathes out, a desperate, breathy whisper. he’s panting, struggling to hold it together. he presses his hands flat on the table, palms sweating, trying to steady himself.

you look up at him with curiosity. his heart races, and the words are choking him. he bites his lip, all at once embarrassed and unbearably turned on.

“i—i—" he stops, gasping for air, hands shaking. "i can’t—i’ve been thinking about this… about you.” he’s so close, so close to breaking. his voice is strained, trembling under the weight of what he’s saying. “when i touch myself… it’s—it's you, okay?” he barely manages to get the words out, feeling like his insides are liquefying under the weight of it.

you freeze, smile faltering. “did you?” you whisper, your tone low and teasing.

“i’m sorry,” he gasps, eyes wide with guilt and the flush of shame creeping up his neck. “it’s... i didn’t mean—fuck, i shouldn’t have said that.”

you don't give him a chance to retreat. “no need to apologize, armin,” you say, the words dripping with something that feels like victory. “you’re cute when you’re this honest.”

and then, it’s quiet—just long enough to hear him choke back another whimper of frustration, as if his body is already begging for more. "but don’t think i’ll let you off that easy, hmm?"

his hands are trembling where they clutch your waist, like he’s not even sure he’s allowed to touch you like this. you nip at his bottom lip, smile curling against his mouth when he gasps again. you straddle him so that your thighs are on each side of his, and armin thinks he could die like this—caged between you, drowning in your scent.

but you take it a step further. you place your knee against his sensitive bulge and he lets out the prettiest moan you’ve ever heard. his hands grip at your hips harder, as if anchoring himself to reality, but you can feel the way his muscles lock in restraint. the sounds of a conversation drift from behind a nearby bookshelf, but all he can hear now is the blood rushing in his ears.

the noise nearby only adds on to your excitement. having armin— armin who’d ditch anybody to study for a test, armin who colour-codes his notes and panics if he’s not fifteen minutes early to each lecture—underneath you like this? it fills you with a sense of pride knowing you’re the only one that can reduce him to nothing but a horny mess.

your thigh rocks against his twitching bulge, back and forth, slow and mean, like you're testing him. and armin—sweet, delicate armin—falls to pieces.

his head lolls back against the chair, lips parted in a perfect ‘O’, breath stuttering out in high-pitched gasps. his eyes are glassy with tears and so, so bright, like he’s staring up at heaven and not at the ceiling of a dusty library. there’s drool slipping from the corner of his mouth—he doesn’t even notice. he’s too far gone. he looks pretty, absolutely destroyed, like his mind’s been wiped clean except for the feeling of your mouth on his nipple and your thigh grinding him down into nothing.

“nghhh—hah, i… i c-can’t think,” he whines, voice cracking, desperate and breathless. “feels too good, i’m— i’m gonna—!”

you coo against his skin, twisting gently at his nipple with your fingertips just to hear the helpless cry he gives in return. his hips jerk again, chasing the friction like he’s forgotten how to stop. he’s babbling now, barely making sense. “please, please, i—can’t—feels s’good, i—hahh—hurts—!”

his hands shake on your hips, clutching like he’s drowning, and all he can do is rut against your thigh while you kiss and suck at his chest like he’s yours to ruin.

his body trembles beneath yours, and the pressure builds too quickly, too intensely. he stammers out apologies, but before he can even register it, he’s cumming, and he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. his face flushes bright red, humiliation flooding him as he whimpers, trying to recover his breath, lost in ecstasy. but its too late. someone’s footsteps are closer, and the sound of their voice drifts to your ears. he feels exposed, knowing the risk of someone walking in is too real, too immediate.

you dont stop rocking your thighs against his crotch, drawing out cries that feel much louder in the public area. armin begs you to stop with a weak, “please, I can’t take it, not—ngh—somebody’s gonna see…”

he thinks you’re going to let him cum again. god, he’s so close.

your thigh feel just right, your mouth is still on his chest, his hips are twitching up—and then you stop.

the friction disappears and your mouth leaves him with a soft pop, and armin lets out the whiniest noise, hands slapping over his mouth like didn‎’t mean to let it out.

“wha—n-no, no, please—”

“think i got enough out of today’s lesson, yeah? can’t spoil you too much, baby—you’ll get greedy.”

you run your fingers through his hair, so gentle it’s cruel.

“but don’t pout,” you coo. “i’ll give you another lesson. my dorm. if you behave.”

you get up and fix your clothes, slow and casual, like you didn’t just drive him to the edge of sanity. he twitches in your absence, like his body doesn’t know what to do without your weight on top of him.

“i’ll see you in class,” you toss over your shoulder with a wink.

and armin? armin is left there—completely ruined, dripping, thighs pressed tight together for any relief, praying nobody walks around the corner and finds him like this.

Choso who gets so needy when you sit on his lap, it’s almost embarrassing. Almost. His head tips back against the couch, lips parted, eyes half-lidded and glassy. He lets out the faintest whimper—barely audible, more breath than sound—but it makes your stomach flip. His hips jerk up into you like instinct, desperate for more warmth, more pressure, more of you.

You thread your fingers in his hair and tug—not too hard, just enough to make him moan, loud and needy, eyes fluttering as his breath catches in his throat. He’s already trembling, already leaking through his boxers, already drooling a little from the corner of his mouth. Completely wrecked, and you fucking love it.

“Fuck—please, slow down,” he mutters, voice raw and strained, like he’s trying not to whine. “I’m not—I can’t... I’m gonna cum like this, I’m sorry, I—”

You pull back just enough to see his face, but he refuses to meet your eyes. His jaw clenches, lashes fluttering, lips parted like he’s still trying to speak, but his body is betraying him.

Your fingers trace the line of his jaw, making him meet your eyes. There's a softness to your touch, but your voice is still low and teasing. "Let go for me, Cho. You look so pretty all worked up like this," you murmur, lips brushing against his ear.

That’s all it takes. He breaks. His body jerks forward, a gasp escaping him, and then he’s rutting up into you, his face flushed and damp with sweat, but his hands don’t leave your body.

You kiss him and he melts—messy and eager, all tongue and teeth, hands gripping your waist like he’s scared you’ll vanish. Every time you roll your hips down a little harder, it knocks another needy sound from his throat. His cock strains against the damp fabric, twitching every time your clothed cunt drags right over the tip—just enough friction to make him gasp, not enough to let him have it.

When you pause to catch your breath, he whines—high and choked, like it slipped out before he could stop it. His hips stutter up into yours, searching for more, grinding like he doesn’t even mean to do it. “I’m sorry, I just—fuck, you feel so good.”

You whisper his name, all syrupy and sweet, and that’s it.

He cums with a shaky moan, biting down on your shoulder to muffle the sound—but it’s no use. He’s already twitching beneath you, ribbons of cum spilling into his boxers. He keeps grinding up into you, chasing the high like it’s the only thing that’s real anymore.

And fuck, he looks so pretty like this. Messy. Trembling. Desperate. Completely wrecked and still begging for more.

Your good boy. Always so full for you.

he looks so pretty

(x)

humping a pillow in front of her, desperately looking into her eyes with each thrust, grunting and moaning loudly, desperately praying the pillow can be replaced with her

need to be tied up and edged to the point where my body doesn't even have the power to twitch and squirm anymore

Want to be on my knees and forced to stroke myself to get mommy’s attention

need to be on my knees looking up at a pretty girl with my big, brown, puppy eyes as she admires the view

need to caress and suck on her titties as she humps over my boxers with no panties on

Kneeling over me, holding me by the collar placed around my neck, looking down into my eyes, forcing my mouth to mindlessly suck on your fingers, professing that I am your good boy.

I am lucky to be a switch because I am pretty big, tall, bearded, and muscular, which sadly most fdoms don't enjoy...

which is disappointing

desperately craving for mommy to make me choke on her fingers as I look up from beneath her

What if I attached a leash to your collar, little pup? Would you like me to yank it so hard it’ll choke you? I just know you want me to press my fingers down on those beautiful bruises that are left.

Now, don’t lie to your Mistress, you want me to force you on your hands and knees like the mutt you are while I take you roughly with my strap-on, pulling at your leash so hard you can’t catch enough oxygen to moan or cry.

Don’t be scared, sweet pup. Just trust your Mistress and her decisions. She knows what’s best for you. And, if I think you did a good job, I’ll tie your leash to the bedpost and let you sleep besides my bed <3

"Why do men have nipples?🙄🙄" for girls to rub and pinch until their cock is throbbing, hope it helps

As you wish

*pats your head and boops your nose* @corruptedpup13 cry for me baby boy, I wanna lick up your tears 😢 😉

just something about obedient docile boys who are only submissive for you. no one knows that side of them, only you get to see how pretty they look when they are whining and pleading and whimpering on their knees in front of you while tears are streaming down their pretty face <3

i really just need a dom mommy to mess me up. 😵‍💫

I have such an oral fixation. I spend all day with a water bottle or something to chew on. If you get me into subspace, my inhibitions are gone. Anything that gets near my lips is getting kissed, licked, or sucked on. Tie me up and I’ll be straining against it trying to get you in my mouth in any way I can. God, shove a couple of fingers in my mouth, and I’m going to eagerly suck them as hard as possible. I can never get enough of showing my devotion with my lips and tongue until you cover my face with you!

Working out in my 20’s: Gotta get swole so I can pick up chicks!

Working out now: Gotta do more squats so Mistress can admire my butt.

❤️

My place

I need this regularly

"Shoes off sweet boy," I said the moment he stepped in the door, it was late. "Phone on the shelf."

He sighed, taking his shoes off.

"Work's done, no need to think anymore, you're home."

It was an intense day, he looked exhausted- lost in that pretty little head...

"You didn't have time for lunch again", I said. Not a question. A fact.

"Mummy can tell..."

He shook his head. "My meetings ran over. I was going to, just grabbed something on the trai—"

"Shhhh", I cut in, soft but stern. "You're done making decisions. Bathroom. Now."

He didn’t argue. Just nodded, already unbuttoning his shirt as he headed up the stairs. I had the bath ready with his favourite bubbles. He paused when he saw it.

"Oh Mummy..."

“Let Mummy help you do a big boy peepee first..." —I stood behind him, my hips pressed against his back, my hands making my way round his waist, unbuttoning his fly as his trousers dropped to the floor...— "I take care of what’s mine, and you are mine." I whispered in his ear as my hands held him, his body relaxing into mine.

"Now, flush the toilet and get in the bath."

He did as he was told.

Once he was settled in the water, I sat on the edge of the bath and gently washed his face and hair, taking care to not get any soap in his eyes. I worked my way down his body, neck, shoulders, arms- washing away the day...

I watched as the assertive, directing man with never ending responsibilities slowly melted into my baby before my eyes.

He didn’t need to perform or initiate here, he needed to feel safe and protected. I took my time making sure he was clean and dry.

Then we brushed our teeth together, took my time applying baby lotion, talc, gently wrapping him in the biggest diapee I could find and my favourite tortoise pyjamas.

"Time for bed." I peeled back the sheets- he shuffled under, so sleepy...

"Come here Gorgeous boy" I whispered as I climbed into bed next to him, pulling him close to my chest and pushing his favourite dummy between his lips.

"You’ve done enough. Let Mummy take care of the rest."

Stroking his hair and covering his face with the tiniest kisses, I whispered: "I’m so proud of you, you know? You worked so hard today."

I held him a little tighter, letting my hand rest gently at the nape of his neck.

My strong, brilliant boy—peaceful in my arms, exactly where he belonged.

He was mine to guide. Mine to protect. His eyes closed and his breathing slowed to a rhythmic pace...

And now, finally, he could rest knowing he was safe, wrapped in Mummy's love...

❤️

I spread the blanket across the grass and begin unpacking the picnic I thoughtfully prepared— the sun is shining, it's a beautiful day.

"Sit down baby, it's time for some lunch"

He sits down with his legs crossed and looks up at me patiently. 

"Mummy, after we eat can we do the kisses???"

"Of course we can!" I giggle, "Make sure you drink plenty, we don't want you dehydrating do we? Cause that would be bad!"

He shakes his head furiously.

After the long walk, he drains the juice in one go and makes quick work of his lunch. We lay kissing and touching on the blanket in the sun, the world slowing around us- until I notice him starting to wriggle.

"Are you ok poppet? You're getting figety."

"Uhmm..—" he squirms, "I-I need to, um…—" his voice is so soft and quiet, there's a little frown forming on his forehead. 

"I need a wee wee Mummy..."

I adore him when he's so desperate.

It was a mistake letting him wear his big-boy pants today.

"Awwwww, see this is why you need diapees- then we don't have to worry about things like this. Do we?"

There's a long pause...

"No Mummy."

"Now be a good boy and get onto your knees."

"But Mummmmmy, people will seeee"

"Oh sweet boy, no one will pay attention to a baby doing a pee pee in public..."

I pull gently- but firmly on the buckle of his belt, lifting his hips up so he's on his knees and start slowly unbuttoning his jeans.

His cheeks flush with embarrassment, but he does as he's told as I position myself behind him - my body pressed up against his. 

Wrapping my arms around his hips and I feel his hands move to assist mine—"No touching! That's Mummy's job" — Feeling the inevitability of the situation, his hands drift to his sides, and he let's out a little relenting sigh...

I reach into his pants and pull him out, aiming at the grass and whisper into his ear;

"Okay baby...now just relax. Do a big wee wee for Mummy...Then we can get back to the kisses."

It would be fun to be a dom I’d bet, however… BEING A SUB HAS BROUGHT ME SOOOOO MUCH EXCITEMENT AND JOY THAT I WOULD NOT TRADE IT FOR ANYTHING!!!

Me? 🔁🔁🔁🔁🔁🔁

Hey beta, Keep pumping all of the precum out of your clitty and remember to not cum 🚫💦🚫

Reblog to let every alpha male know how wet you are