Her Deviant Husband | [✓]

Wedding Arc 1 (M)

Mature Content: Smut, Rough Sex
Vote Target: 150 to 180+ votes
Comment Target: 100+
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I pulled away from the kiss, barely a breath between us, my lips tingling with the warmth he always left behind. Reyansh's hands were still on my waist—firm —and my heartbeat was louder than I wanted to admit. Our noses brushed, and I felt the faintest flutter of his breath on my lips—warm, steady, intoxicating. I didn't move, didn't open my eyes yet. I wanted to hold onto this moment for just a second longer.

Two years. It had been two whole years since I married Reyansh Sehgal.

Even after two years of marriage, I still wasn't over how deeply this man could make me feel. How the mere touch of his hand on my waist could melt me, how the warmth in his gaze could wrap around me like a blanket in the middle of a storm.

His name echoed through my chest like a secret only I was allowed to say. Like I was the only one who had ever really seen him—not the devil in a tailored suit, but the man who looked at me like I was his entire world.

I finally opened my eyes, slowly, and looked at him.

And there he was—Reyansh Sehgal.

My husband.
My undoing.

God, he is beautiful.

And I don't mean that casually. I mean breathtaking. The kind of beautiful that makes you forget every coherent thought you had just moments before.

The kind of beautiful that still makes my heart skip when he walks into a room.
Every. Single. Time.

He was not beautiful in that clean, pretty-boy way.
No. Reyansh was carved from shadows and sins.

His dark hair was slightly tousled, like he'd run his fingers through it a few times out of habit—something he always did when he was deep in thought. Or sleepy. Or both. And the way it fell over his forehead, just a bit, made him look even younger.

His amber-brown eyes—God, those eyes—looked straight into mine.
That unreal molten shade I'd never seen on anyone else.

There's something about them that just... stops me. Like they're carved out of sunlight and old soul. They aren't just brown; they're a dozen different shades depending on the light—sometimes they glow golden, sometimes they look like warm cinnamon. Always, though, they make me feel seen.