“ 𝑡𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠．．” 𝐴𝑅𝐾𝐴𝐻 𝐶𝑂𝑅𝑉𝑈𝑆 〔アルハ・コルバス〕
✉️𓂅 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋! “ I think I might like writing for Arkah. He may become my signature character to write \(^ヮ^)/“
He’s knelt before you on your crescent, wine red velvet couch settled low and close to the floor. Beneath his knees is the single mercy of soft tiger fur rug beneath him. In his large hands in your much smaller foot, clad in fleece lined tights, his calloused fingers caress your ankle with care only a man like him would exude. His pride is lost, his dignity would seem nonexistent to your typical straight man but he does not care. Not in the slightest, not even one neuron in his brain would utter the words of care about something as trivial as manly dignity or pride. He feels none of it when worshiping his wife and those fleece lined tights against her thighs.
His kisses crawl up the front of your calf from your ankle up to your knee, slow, careful, and with the kind of attentiveness only the follower of an otherworldly being would possess. To him, you are the equivalent to a goddess on earth. He is just the lucky mortal man who got to become your husband. There’s something that can only be described as akin to an aroma filtering through the fabric of those fleece lined tights. It consists of the warm vanilla sugar lotion and the pampering dove soap you used in the shower today. His breath nearly catches every time he smells it, he kisses higher and higher. You give way to a faint moan, your fingers card through his thick locs, damn near petting him and you tilt your head.
“You smell good, baby.” He compliments.
“You must need something.”
“That’s a bold assumption, I don’t need anything. Today was just a long day of adulting.” He retorts, fingers coming up your thighs. Smoothing across those soft tights.
“The day just started and I haven’t even made it to work yet because of you. I’m gonna be late, as hell too.” You sigh and place your fingertip on his forehead, pushing him back and away from your legs. You’re aware that despite your spouses intelligence, wisdom, and good heart, he—on many more occasions than not—avoids any kind of adult responsibility. Not in an unhealthy way, more like a childish “why do I have to do it?” kind of way.
“You can call off today, right?” He asks, voice lowering as he smiles at you, gently swiping your hand away to rush kiss up your thighs, causing you to squeal in surprise and push at his head. “What the hell—Arkah! I called off work yesterday and the day before that, I can’t call off just because you asked me to anymore.” You reprimand, he chuckled. Not only at the way you were oh so surprised by his teasing rush of kisses, but at how you reprimanded him for getting you in trouble at work twice, as if your income was a game.
“One more day won’t hurt, right? I mean, you did call off sick, right?” He stands to his full height, looking you up and down like some kind of pastry of some sorts. And despite his smile, he just wants to take you to bed and rerun this mornings round of sex.
“[♥︎]. Did I mention that you smell good?”
Your brows would furrow into this stern glare, you cross your legs. And for a moment the two of you would enter something like a staring contest, only, you’re testing his resolve to get you to stay home for the day.
“We’ll go out today. Make it worthwhile..”
You growl but then sigh and cave, clearly frustrated. But the temptation of a day out with your husband for the first time in forever was doing some things to you. “Fine. I’ll call my boss and change, then we can go.”
“Great. I’ll wait for you here.” He says, watching you get up from the couch and waltz to the bedroom to change into something more date-appropriate.
That date never ended up happening, he’d followed you to the bedroom, and now he’s got you in missionary, a broad palm on your tummy, pressing just enough to get you to really feel your g-spot getting pounded, sending you to oblivion. His girth keeps your sluice cunt open and the veins stretch you just past your own boundaries. Every harsh thrust was meant to re-mold you to the shape of his ever so demanding dick. Tights and panties torn in the middle just enough to give him access.
“Arkah- ‘s too much! Baby, slow doooown!” You mewl and cry. The pace he’s set isn’t slow, it’s fast, unlike his usual slow thrusts. You aren’t sure what’s gotten into him, but you kinda like it.
“Shh, it’ll be fine. You feel it, don’t you?” He pants, he doesn’t plan on slowing down any time soon. Every thrust inches him just closer to his impending release. When his tip thrusts the air out of you for the umpteenth time you begin to feel it, this full feeling. Different than his cock filling you up so thoroughly. You know what it is, but you’d been having secret doubts that he’d ever make you do it.
“Ohh my good! Babe, baby! I’m gonna make a mess-“ you grab his wrist, trying to push his wrist away but to no avail. His hand is too heavy, and this overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you has you weak in the limbs. Only thing being your toes curling and your other hand gripping the sheets with the strength you only ever got in bed.
“I know, my love. Come on, you can do it, can’t you? I know you can.” He encourages, grey eyes locked on yours. The eye contact only enhances the pleasure you both are feeling. The more he pounds you deep the harder it gets to control that feeling.
When you finally do squirt, it was sudden, soaking the entirety of his lower tummy which was flexing with his increasing need to cum. He groans as the liquid coats him, giving this satisfaction that even he can’t describe. And you’re crying, back arched harshly, both hands now pushing at his as you begin to feel overwhelmed.
“That was good. Think you can do it again?” He asks, giving you one particular harsh thrust against the same spot, your response immediately disintegrated into sobbing moans.
“One more, and when you cum, we’ll go out, we can go to the Cheesecake Factory, then go shopping.” He’s trying to coax you into letting him make you squirt again, but you’re barely processing his words, you’re more focused on how hard you’d just squirted, by the cock of your husband no less. Not a dildo, not a two part vibrator. Just Arkah Corvus and those blessed hands of his.
“We’d better go out after this…I called off work for you.” You reach around his wrist to strum your clit with three fingers, the friction had your head falling back into the pillows as he resumes his merciless pace, specifically targeting your g-spot so you’d squirt again, but this time he wants to make you squirt even harder.
“I promise, let’s just focus, hmm?” He lets his eyes wander your body, sweaty, glowing, and vibrating with pleasure caused by him and him alone.
It’s not long before you’re violently squirting again, this one had you cumming through, cumming hard and squirting all over your spouses tummy, arching off the bed and shaking in his hold. Chanting his name like a mantra and whimpering.
And like he promised, after you both showered and whatnot he took you out while you berated him for not only making you call off work but ripping your tights and you favorite bare of panties!
2026 𝑌𝑈𝑀𝐸𝐾𝑂’𝑆 𝑊𝑂𝑅𝐾． 𝐼𝑇’𝑆 𝑌𝑈𝑀𝐸’𝑆 𝐷𝑂𝑁’𝑇 𝑆𝑇𝐸𝐴𝐿 𝐼𝑇！
