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amethystheartsx · 2 months ago

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LADS MEN SEEING YOU IN TRADITIONAL WEAR FOR THE FIRST TIME (Desi Version Pt.1)

(Content under the cut cause I am gonna ramble first😭)

SFW, fluff, mildly suggestive I think?

AN: guys!!!! I am crying the reaction for my last head cannon post was very overwhelming I was expecting like 5 notes and maybe 2 re blogs but damn you guys showed me so much love so I felt like it was my responsibility to pay back for such kindness, so here it is.

Also asks are open for those who want to request something, it doesn't have to be Desi centric anything you want, xx.

Ps. The outfits described are inspired by the ones I have owned lol. (Sorry got in too depth of the details you can skip thats)

Ps. Part two will be out in two days max.

Xavier

It wasn't everyday you choose to dress up in your traditional wear, not because it wasn't something you wanted it was only because there weren't that many occasions.

So, when one of you closes cousin got hitched you knew you were going to go all out, because hey! What is a Desi event, if not a better version of Met Gala.

Xavier was quite excited to see you too mostly because you would not stop buzzing about the saree you had ordered from the boutique , every time you two met since the day you ordered it, you couldn't keep your mouth shut, you chose not to show him anything or tell him the color since you wanted to see a raw reaction.

The day arrived quickly you waited for Xavier to arrive at the venue since you had went to the brides home and got ready there and went with her to the venue, as much as Xavier wanted to go with you as he felt a but awkward, he understood that right now you needed to be with your girl.

One of your other cousin escort him inside the venue as he was now also a cherished member of the family and it wasn't long when Xavier's eyes, that somehow were a little too good at spotting you no matter the crowd, fell on you and he held his breath, completely and utterly stunned.

There you stand in all your glory with a shimmering rose-gold saree that draped gracefully around you. The blouse, fitted and elegant, had delicate embroidery along the sleeves and the saree’s border was adorned with intricate silver embellishments, glinting softly like scattered stars. It hugged your frame, flowing down to the floor in smooth, silky folds. Bangles jingled on your wrists, and a golden pendant rested against collarbone beautiful and henna design on your hand and the hair up do decorated with with white flowers, completing the timeless, ethereal look. Xavier's heart was thumping loud, he gave you a once over. You looked nothing less like royalty. Some he would willingly bow his head in front of and be honored.

"Xavier!" You called out rushing towards him, or well trying too, and pulled him in an embrace and his arms wrap around you almost dropping the gift he had brought with him, catching a few look from the aunties but you did not care one bit, you had been separated far too long. "Xavier I was waiting- uh Xavier?" You pulled away from the hug to look at him only to be met with his piercing sapphire gaze "why would you deprive me of such look, my star." he almost sound offended at the fact you never graced his eyes with such astounding beauty before.

Regardless of his accusations you chuckled "are you trying to say that I look pretty?" You say your head tilted.

Xavier shakes his head with a sigh "pretty is such small word, I don't think that's how I will describe it" he says, he reaches out touch the the strand of hair that you meticulously left into curls, they wrap around his finger and Xavier leans down to kiss it since he couldn't kiss your face like he wanted, worried he might ruin the makeup. Mind full of the fact you must have spend good chunk of time and effort to perfect it for the event.

"Then how would you describe it" you poke, there was no way you would let him go, after all you wanted to look pretty for him too.

Xavier's loving gaze intensified into something more lust full "how about I show you instead my little star" he says looking down at your neck line, shamelessly peeking at cleavage and spoke "is there a room-ow" he was cut off, you pinched his arm with a flustered face "Xavier! The event haven't even started and you are trying to ruin my look" you whisper yell at him and he only smirked. "What can I say my little star, the way you look right now I will not be keeping my hands of you" Xavier declares as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and you roll your eyes "as if you ever keep your hands off me" you say and he just shrugged "I will touch what is right fully mine, you can not stop me" he says kissing the crown of your head, he could feel the pout forming on your lips. " can't you compliment me normally for once, xavy?"

His lips quirked up in smile, his hand finally moved from your waist, now holding your hand as he brings it up to his face placing gentle kiss on the knuckle, peeking at his name on your wrist, that made him much more smug "you look gorgeous my love" he kisses the fingers "graceful" another kiss, this time on the wrist right by his name "elegant and-" he takes deep breath before continuing "breathtaking"

A blush crept up your cheek and you giggled, now satisfied and you opened up your mouth to say something when one aunty who was turning green with envy, decided to interrupt "oh you two, the the function is about start move along" she scolds, Xavier turns to her his face contorted in annoyance, he looks back at you and you shook your head the turn to the lady "we will be right there, let's go Xavier!" With one last look you both left the woman alone.

And for the rest of the night Xavier followed you around holding your anchal, making sure no one bothers you in any sort of way.

Zayne

Black on black is zaynes favorite combination for most of the occasions, and even now after you had infiltrated his wardrobe and his life, he still had lots of outfit in that color code. It was your first time wearing something like this since ever since you came here to linkon it was hard to find traditional wear, zayne had it custom made it for you by a well known boutique owner, and you thought it was time to finally wear it and show it to him.

So, for tonight's hospital banquet you decided to follow that, you figured that's what he will show up in black on black again so might as well match together like the power couple you are.

So you picked out the brand new qameez suit, knowing zayne he would be nagging you in the next 5 minutes since that's when they had planned to leave the house. You picked up the pace, completing the light gold eye makeup with prominent eyeliner, stepping back you examined yourself from head to toe, feeling pretty confident in your look.

It was a simple yet stylish black outfit, consisting of a long, straight-cut qameez with subtle sequin embroidery scattered across the fabric, the shimmers under the warm light. The qameez had a round neckline and sheer, full-length sleeves with delicate patterns that added a soft texture to the otherwise plain design. Underneath, it had a matching black shalwar falling just above the ankles.

A lightweight black dupatta, its edges adorned with embroidered motifs that mirrored the design on her qameez. A small, round white clutch with a beaded pattern, which stood out against the dark tones of the attire. You add matching jhumkas.

Just then your Mr.husband called out "we are late darling" making you roll your eyes out "five more minutes!" Calling back and leaned over the counter and begin to apply a deep shade of red that looked confident and classy kind of sexy with over all look.

Zayne walked in cleaning his glasses, putting them on with practiced ease "Dear we were suppose to-" his words were caught in his throats as he looks at you "oh.." He unconsciously steps towards you while you were still applying the red lipstick adding a little bit of a gloss on top if it, your eyes moved up to look at him through the reflection "hmm?" Before going right back to task at hand, lightly smacking your lips making sure nothing was out of line.

Zayne clears his throat "nothing, its just....I was aware you'd be looking beautiful in this attire but I what I did not expect you to look this...ravishing" he breaths out. In an instant could feel swarm of butterflies creating havoc in your tummy "mhm? Ravishing? Dr. Zayne this is a modest outfit I was suppose to look modest and classy" you couldn't help but laugh at the iron as you turn to face only to meet his smoldering gaze that you were still somehow not used and got easily flustered.

He steps closer only couple feet away from you, your back pressed on the counter. "I know I am well aware, however, its not the dress my love" he holds your chin making you look up at him l, his eyes on your redden lip "its you who is ravishing" he says as he smirks, his pointy canine on display.

And just like that something in you short circuited, stuttering incoherently you tried to shoo him off saying you needed to find your heels, but he remain firm. "I got you something" he says in his breathy tone opening the jacket of his coat and fishing out two pair of gajrays, that he wordlessly puts on you and you had the biggest smile on your face that was until you noticed he was wearing grey and brown suit instead. Zayne notices your brows knit together and he knew what was coming, you going on a rampage "zaynie, I thought you were going to wear black you always wear black all the time and so I wore black too I told you I was gonna wear the black attire you got, and so you should have gotten the hint to wear black too instead you wear grey and fricken brown I mean we were suppose to look like power couple tonight mmf-" he cuts you off, a finger pressed on the plush of your lips "no need to be fussy I'll go change for you, begum" and just like that you were melted, making his smirk bigger, tsk its too damn easy now for him. You nod and he removes his finger, red stain of your lips on his finger that he licks off making you blush harder "okay okay go now" you says pushing him out not wanting to look at his smug face because damn it this man had you eating out of his palm at times.

And you know what? You wouldn't have it any other way.

Rafayel

Rafayel had been screaming-crying-throwing up, begging on the floor, for you to wear a lehnga for him. He had saw you once scrolling through your Pinterest looking at pretty lehnga and was hit with tremendous force of inspiration. Rafayel had painted you, a lot, like way over the normal amount should be. In many ways and using different color hues and settings, they were all so stunning, you loved them all so much and honestly it was such and ego boost every time he showed his painting of you, but he always complained about not being able to capture your true beauty. That was until he saw you looking at the Pinterest and realized he hadn't seen you in your traditional wear ever, let alone paint you in it, and right after that day he had been on your case to wear it for you.

Its not that you didnt want to wear it was just that you couldn't find one. When you made the mistake of telling him that you found him on the phone with none other then The Zainab Chotani. You knew you had to intervene. You told him you will find a dress on your own but it was too late he had placed the order one of the elites of south Asian fashion because of course his darling couldn't have anything less then that.

"Cutieeeee how much longerrrr?" Rafayel whines from outside the locked room, you had strictly told him not to enter or he will be getting his ass kicked, as protest rafayel had camped outside, sitting by the door, waiting.

Once you were ready you took a deep breath and leave the room. She made her way to the studio and sees him sitting on the stool with a big canvas in front of him, he was sulking ofcourse.

"Just a little longer this stupid fricken teeka, is NOT fixing" you reply to him, it was taking long yes because your beloved lemurian had ordered you a Bridal lehnga. you could here shuffling outside followed by loud knocking "then open the door and let me in I'll help" the impatient artist says but you you wouldn't let him nuh uh. "Rafayel I am almost done please just go to the studio I'll be there damn!" You exasperated "fine...always so mean to me" he mumbles and steps back going back to the studio.

You wore a stunning sky-blue bridal lehenga, intricately embroidered with shimmering silver and gold threadwork. When you twirl the lehenga flared gracefully like gentle waves of the sea, detailed patterns across the skirt, which caught the light with every movement. The fitted blouse was equally adorned with embellishments, a modest neckline and long sleeves that added an elegant touch.

"Rafayel....I am here" she says and he turns too look at you excitement brimming his eyes but that soon turned into awe.

Draped over one shoulder was a rich maroon velvet shawl, contrasting beautifully with the cool blue tones of her outfit. The shawl was bordered with elaborate gold embroidery and scalloped edges, giving it a regal finish. Another lighter blue dupatta, matching the lehenga, was delicately placed over her head.

Her jewelry was traditional and elaborate, a maang tikka rested on her forehead, a teardrop-shaped pendant. She wore a choker necklace layered with cascading strands of pearls a visible ode to his lemurian heritage, adding depth and luxury to her look. Her hands were adorned with intricate henna designs, enhancing the overall bridal look.

And rafayel....well poor guy had fallen from his stool, he had tried to get up very quickly and tripped. "Raffy!" You tried to approach him but he was on his feet already moving towards you "I am fine I am okay, its just you....wow" he breaths his hand reaching out barely touch her face, an artist admiring a masterpiece, scared to ruin it. "You like it?" You ask holding his hand leaning onto his touch. "I love it" he replies in a reverent tone.

Rafayel holds both of your hands kissing each of them, the action making you blush a crimson shade, turning your face away "don't" he warns "let me admire you" he says as you turn back to him. Rafayel drops to his knees feeling like thats how he should be, where he should be. "Maybe I should just marry you now, its been too.damn.long" he says vulnerability lacing his voice.

The thought made you giddy and you pinch his cheek "well i am in a bridal lehnga, let's just do it" you says and he smirks getting up from his spot and aiming straight to get his coat "let me find my shoes and we are done" he says making you giggle "you know I am joking you silly fish" you follow him and soft sound of your Bengals echoes. Rafayel turns to you and pout "tsk now that's just mean, but whatever you say cutie, just know I will not be waiting long" he says and make you roll your eyes at him again until you see him going over his canvas and removing it

"I am, its just this canvas isn't big enough to capture what I have in mind" rafayel smirks.

"Wait weren't you going to paint me?"

And this is basically the story behind his mural of you in the living room, you with your lehnga all spread out and him on with his head on your lap.

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eowynstwin · 7 months ago

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blackbird, fly - iii.

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. . You wonder if this is how lambs feel, when shorn for the first time. . content warning for marital rape after the second break. . ao3

“Come,” says Hans, tugging on your arm, “let’s get you ready for the ceremony.”

Your husband-to-be leads you up the porch steps and into the house, long legs carrying him ahead so fast you must practically jog to keep up with him. You stumble when you enter the house—the interior is fantastically well-appointed, with papered walls and carved wood furniture, framed photos hanging beside paintings, pressed flowers, hunting trophies, rifles and knives and old farm equipment. The floor beneath your feet is polished and smooth, spread over in places with thick, fringed rugs. You don’t see much more of it after your initial impression; Hans pulls you along at a clip.

Even such a brief glimpse, though, proves your long-held assumptions about Hans and his livelihood; his family has done well for itself, over the years. The kitchen, dining room, and sitting room are all separate from each other, and the manor’s first floor alone is larger than the small farmhouse you grew up in. Your family always made an effort to present a comfortable, clean home, but it seems downright drab in memory now in comparison to this.

There’s a bit of a bustle going on as Hans tugs you along—you hear movement in the kitchen, punctuated by the clang of dishes moving to and fro. A rough voice grinds out something short, and a couple of cowboys emerge with covered dishes that they set on the dining table before they return back into the fray. In the sitting room, an older woman with short, sandy brown hair sits at a desk, spectacles perched on the end of her nose. She glances up at you, betrays no interest, and then ignores you.

“You’ll meet everyone at the ceremony,” Hans says. He directs you up the stairs. “Right now you need something nice to wear.”

“O-oh,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirt as you climb the steps. The fabric, purchased at a discount after you’d saved pennies and nickels for months, suddenly feels thin and insubstantial between your fingers.

Hans brings you into the main bedroom, equally well-designed with molded wood paneling and brass lanterns on the walls, where he goes to a chest at the foot of the massive bed four-poster bed. Everything you’ve seen so far in this house is much finer than what even the most well-to-do farmers back home could display; you used to imagine that wealth like this could only be within the reach of select few businessmen on the east coast. You never imagined you’d have the chance to marry into it.

“I think this should suit you,” says Hans, turning to you with a stack of clothing in one hand.

You take it from him when he proffers it—a skirt, blouse, and jacket, you find. The fabric is silky in your hands, glossy and cool to the touch and very fine. You shake out the skirt; yards of bustled fabric tumble open to reveal pleated gathers, elegant bows, and velvet trim. The paired jacket is much the same, with pearl buttons down the front, and the accompanying blouse is a weave of tight, delicate lace.

Your earlier fears are soundly confirmed; you are in no way dressed for a wedding to Hans König. Gaz had only been trying to be kind; being here, now, seeing the kind of splendor Hans lived with every day, no one could make the mistake that you could measure up on your own.

“Thank you, Hans,” you say, face warming with embarrassment.

“Think nothing of it,” says Hans, looking you up and down expectantly. “Go on.”

You blink. “Ex—excuse me?”

Hans raises his brows as if it should be obvious. “Why, let’s see you in it, dear girl.”

You blanch. Surely he isn’t suggesting…“But—well, Hans, we aren’t—we haven’t—”

“My dear, I’ve already promised to marry you. Why would I go to such expense on a wedding merely to fool you into showing me your underthings?”

You drop your gaze to the floor, cheeks burning. “It’s not proper.”

“Bah,” says Hans. He takes the clothes back from you, tosses them onto the bed, and brings his hands to the buttons down your front. “It’s not like I won’t see this again in a few hours.”

You are rooted to the spot. He unbuttons your dress with an alacrity that startles you; in a few short moments, he makes an opening wide enough to slip over your shoulders, and unceremoniously he pushes the collar open and lets the dress drop to the floor.

You blink several times. You wonder if this is how lambs feel, when shorn for the first time; do they feel suddenly like they’ve been skinned? Does the air suddenly feel much closer, more real than it had before? You remember shearing season on a neighbor’s farm, the angular planes of shortened fleece cropped close to twitching flesh. The sheep had looked unfinished after the deed was done—like wooden figurines only partly whittled.

When you look to Hans’ face, you find him gazing at the tight space where your chemise tucks into the line of your corset. Then, as if in a dream, he reaches out with one huge hand and cups the mound of one breast.

The air vacates your lungs. It’s the first time a man has ever touched you this way.

When young ladies of a certain age gather to socialize, matters of discussion inevitably tend toward the prurient. Your peers delighted in sharing the wealth of erotic experience they’d accrued; trysts in larders, late graveyard meetings, dizzying accounts of hands and mouths in places that sent shame pumping hot and curious through your veins. You lived vicariously through their adventures; opportunities for your own, with three older brothers and a protective father, were nonexistent.

The embarrassing fact is that in matters of your marital duties, you received no practical education.

The one time your mother, a modest woman, saw fit to tutor you, she’d taken you out to the small enclosure in which the family goats were kept. The animals were useful for milk and occasionally meat, so there was always a breeding pair at hand. This occasion, they served the additional use of instruction; the male was rutting.

Your mother had made you watch as the billy mounted the nanny, and shoved its little goat prick into her hindquarters. The billy seemed mindless with want, ferocious, gyrating its hips uncomfortably, which the nanny took with what seemed like resigned patience, if it was paying attention at all. Once the billy finished, it dismounted, chewed its cud a little bit, and walked off. The nanny seemed unperturbed, rather detached from the whole thing, and similarly continued with whatever it had been doing before.

“It’s about like that,” said your mother, unable to look you in the eye.

So you have little knowledge of the matter.

And you have no idea what to do now, as your husband-to-be fondles you and stares down at you with what seems like only idle interest. Hans’ thumb brushes over the space where your nipple would be, hot even through layers of cotton and whalebone. The fine hairs on your arms raise, standing straight up.

What are you supposed to do now? Touch him back? Your stomach turns over at the thought. Even if you wanted to, you have no idea how. Hans is touching you so casually, as if you’ve been his wife for years, but you are as poor in wifely instinct as you are in everything else.

“Lovely,” he says, eyes locked on the place where your chest is rapidly rising and falling.

You inhale shakily. This is fine. He wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t—of course it’s all right, you’re to be married within the hour. It’s only your breast, and only his hand, and it’s over your clothes. It’s fine.

“May—” your voice comes out dry. You clear your throat. “May I dress now, Hans?”

He smiles. You note that he has a thin-lipped smile, and his eyes do not crinkle at the corners. “Of course.”

When the guests have all arrived, when the world around you is bathed in the orange-gold light of the setting sun, and when the mandolin plays the bridal chorus, you join Hans König under an archway of lupine and Indian paintbrush. Evening gives way to night as the last day of your old life comes to a close, ending as you say the words that until now you’ve only whispered in the night at your bedside.

For better—for worse—as long as you both shall live. Over and over again, until your tongue recognized the shape of them like the Lord’s Prayer. As if practicing them enough would speed the hour to you all the sooner in which their vow became real.

Hans kisses you for the second time, and then together, arm in arm, you turn to face the congregation’s applause.

Stars begin peeking white faces through the dimming sky as the band strikes up a tune, and as the reception commences, you must shake hands with the whole county. The priest John MacTavish insists upon introducing himself first—a younger man, with vivid blue eyes and an unusual haircut, gives his congratulations in a husky Scottish brogue entirely inappropriate for a man of the cloth. He’s followed by the sheriff, Simon Riley, who practically chases him off—another tall man, near to your husband’s height, and twice as broad. Curiously, he wears a bandanna across the lower half of his face. His greeting to you is gruff, short—polite in a way that seems unnatural for him.

Next is a slightly older woman, splendidly dressed in lace-trimmed taffeta. She comes over to kiss your cheeks in the French style. Hans ducks his head as she smiles at you; you can’t help but feel similar trepidation. She is terribly striking, with delicate creases on either side of her mouth and a mysterious twinkle in her eye.

“The hotel in town is my establishment,” she tells you. “The bath house, as well.”

“Oh,” you say, “how lovely.”

Her smile quirks at the corners; she looks at Hans, then back to you, and softly chucks your chin. “You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you, darling?”

“Yes, Madame, thank you,” your husband says quickly as your face sets to blazing. “I believe others would like to speak to us, as well, if you don’t mind.”

She gives you another enigmatic smile, tightens the light chiffon wrap around her shoulders, and leaves you to the banker and his wife, who both eagerly step up to talk your ear off.

Farmers, other ranchers, ramblers and gamblers and trappers; it seems everyone in the state has come to pay you their respects, and they all want to meet you at the exact same time. The rough voice you heard in the kitchen manifests itself in the form of a burly man with mutton chops, who introduces himself as John Price the saloon owner. A young woman with an unsmiling face named Ms. Boucher tells you your first purchase at her dry goods store will be discounted by five percent, as a welcome gift from her to you. She punctuates the statement with a narrow-eyed look at your husband, but you have no time to wonder at it before the next guests capture your attention.

A whole line of Hans’ cowboys, headed by the woman you saw working at the writing desk when you arrived, form up to tell you their names and pledge you their loyalty, still dressed in their wrangling leathers but bathed and combed and polished for the occasion nonetheless. The woman introduces herself as Kate Laswell, the foreman.

“I took care of the accounting after Anna passed,” Laswell says to you. “Tomorrow I’ll go through the books with you. It’ll be your job from now on.”

“Now, Kate, you shouldn’t discuss business at my wedding,” says Hans, politely, but somewhat terse. “And besides, that would be far too much for my new bride.”

“Hans, I told you,” you say earnestly, referencing a summer letter, “I want to be a part of things.”

He smiles genially at you—but the expression seems tight. “Of course, dear.”

“Tomorrow,” Kate says to you. Curiously, she looks you up and down. Then, “You’ll need to see the tailor, as well, I think.”

Her words are not said unkindly, but they shame you anyway, reminding you just how poorly matched as yet you are to this life. When you’d put the dress on earlier, it had been immediately clear to you that it was not made to your measurements, but you hadn’t thought it would be so obvious to anyone else. Only Hans’ cowboys proceeding to introduce themselves saves you from having to respond.

One is conspicuously absent.

Unexpectedly, it hurts. Even though it shouldn’t. Gaz had only driven you here, after all. You’ve known him less than a day. It shouldn’t disappoint you, as you keep your eyes on the moving line, that he does not come forward, but it does.

In between meeting the county folk, you manage to get a few bites of the wedding feast—prime rib, lamb chowder, baked fish, seasoned potatoes, collard greens, fried tomatoes, sourdough biscuits, and three different fruit cobblers still somehow steaming from the oven. You and Hans cut the bride’s cake, an impressive sheet of angel food and ivory buttercream that he must have procured at outrageous cost; you are not embarrassed to wolf it down in front of Hans’ guests. It’s the sweetest, softest thing you’ve ever eaten, more delicate than you ever could have imagined any food could be.

As the sky darkens overhead, the faint cloud of the milky way coalesces in the light of the waxing moon, and the band takes up a lively jig as the wedding party sallies forth to the clearing to dance arm in arm. Your husband whirls you along with them, arm around your waist, and then you’re dancing, too, and the familiar two-step lifts your flagging spirits as the cool night air runs quick, soft fingers across your burning cheeks.

So what if some cowboy hadn’t made it to your wedding? You’re dancing with your husband, after months of longing for him; everything and everyone else is inconsequential laid up against this triumph.

Faces blur in the lamplight the night falls indigo around you, and as the music changes Hans twirls you into a new set of arms in a jaunt that has everyone exchanging partners. They hold you only briefly before the music changes again, and off you bounce to another, the world spinning around you faster and faster, jubilant and surreal, and then another—

Suddenly you are in Kyle Garrick’s arms.

He catches you like lassoing a runaway horse, taking your momentum into the pillar of his body as he winds you in close. One of his hands spreads warm across your back, fingers spanning what feels like the entire breadth of your waist. His other cradles your own in his palm, long fingers folded around it like an envelope. You fit against him easily, perfectly, like a couple illustrated in a storybook.

“Mr. Garrick,” you gasp.

“Mrs. König,” he says.

Suddenly you realize you’re out of breath. You take deep gulps of air, and Gaz’s scent permeates your lungs. Lavender soap and bay rum, polished leather, sweet hay. The soft, dense curls of his hair are combed and parted a little, and the short stubble he’d greeted you with on the train platform is tonsured down flush to his jaw.

He leans in closer to you, hovers his lips near to one ear. “You changed your dress.”

He doesn’t keep pace with the other dancers, or swing you around in time with the music; he lets the world slow around you both, the music falling away as he brings the pace of your heart down with soft line of his mouth and the steady, still look in his dark eyes. His hand on your back radiates so much warmth that it cuts through the evening chill just beginning to set in, as if his palm is directly against your naked skin.

You smile meekly. “It wasn’t appropriate for a wedding.”

His dark brows pull together; his hands tighten their purchase on you. You watch him avert his eyes from you, take a great breath in through flared nostrils.

“Mr. Garrick,” you say, feeling too honest, “do you disapprove of me?”

He snaps his gaze back to you. “Why would you think that?”

You swallow. “You don’t seem very pleased, whenever we talk, is all.”

Suddenly Gaz smiles—lets out a short, sharp laugh that bares his even teeth, shows the points of his canines. “That’s not your fault. I promise you.”

“Then what is it?”

He gazes at you. Lamplight casts the angles of his face in shadow, deepens the darkness of his eyes. His shoulder is solid beneath where your hand rests, shaped hard by a life on the range; you could lay the entirety of your weight against him, you think, and he wouldn’t even sway with holding you up. There’s something very present about Kyle Garrick. Something real. It draws you in like the earth draws the moon into its orbit.

“Do you really want this?” he asks you.

You blink. “Of course I do.”

“You hardly know him.”

“I’ve known him for half a year, Mr. Garrick,” you say, somewhat unsure how much explanation you owe this cowboy. After all, you’d vowed to earn his trust, as his employer’s new wife. “I know you might have some reservations about me. I understand, really.”

“No,” says Gaz immediately, dark brows low and serious over his eyes. “Not about you.”

“Mrs. König!” an accented voice calls.

Immediately the world speeds up around you again, music crashing back into your ears, wedding guests spinning and leaping around you, and you turn to see your husband standing at the edge of the clearing.

The dancing comes to a halt at the sound of his voice; Hans outstretches one hand toward you.

“I believe it is time for us to retire,” he says.

Gaz’s hands tighten on you again. You feel the eyes of the other dancers on the two of you, tight lines of attention between you and them.

You have felt it all evening, really—the undercurrent lining every conversation, the askance looks tossed at you and your husband when no one thought you’d notice. The pervading sense of some drama playing out just outside of your comprehension.

You turn to look back at Gaz. His mouth is pressed into a hard line. The wells of his eyes are ink-dark, opaque, eclipsed by something of a shape beyond your knowing. He says nothing as he holds your gaze, only watches you with an expectation so stoic, so resigned, that you feel almost guilty for releasing him.

He lets you go as if his grasp wasn’t even tight in the first place. You turn away from him, from the stone-hard expression on his face, and go to slide your fingers into your husband’s waiting hand.

Wolf-whistles populate the night air as he smiles approvingly, nods, and leads you away. Short bursts of knowing applause behind you draw your shoulders tight together.

“Ignore them,” says Hans, tucking your hand into the crook of his arm. “They’re just fools.”

You look back over your shoulder. Gaz still stands amid the dancers, a wide berth around him. His eyes have not left you; they pierce you in the night, sharp even as the distance between you grows.

You have only one other point of reference, aside from your mother’s tutelage, for how the end of this evening might go. A topaz glimmering in the folds of your memory.

Years ago, before the shine had worn off as it usually does with older siblings, you’d worshiped your oldest brother like he was Jesus Christ returned. You’d trailed after him like a newborn pup, dogging his every step, hoping your devotion would earn you even the smallest scraps of his affection. You’d watched his comings and goings like you could divine the mysteries of God from the merest angle of his movements.

One night, far past the time when everyone should be asleep, he’d slipped out of the small three-room house your family shared. You knew, because you slept closest to the door, and by then could recognize him by the rhythm of his footsteps. Like any nosy little sibling, you’d followed him out once you were sure he couldn’t hear you behind him.

He’d made his creeping way toward the barn, his path and yours lit only by a waxing moon. You remember, sneaking along after him, noticing a dim glow emanating from the cracks in the hayloft door, and guessed that your brother had realized he’d forgotten to snuff a lantern before going to bed—and now he was going to put it out, rather than leave a hay fire to chance.

He went inside. You were about to follow (no sibling, however divine, was exempt from a good ribbing, and nearly burning down the barn was excellent blackmail fodder)—when you heard another voice.

A female voice. Soft, and sweet, and welcoming.

Very little preamble separated that revelation from the next, and what you heard in the following moments rooted you there in place; movement. Rustling. For the span of a few heartbeats, nothing except for the crickets in the fields—and then, like the moon rising on a cloudless night—a growing chorus, voices high and low, moaning together in staccato.

You’d stood there, frozen absolutely solid, as it went on. The high voice lifted higher, and higher, carried on frantic, rapid breaths, until it cut off with a shriek that muffled so fast you knew your brother had covered the girl’s mouth.

Then—quiet, shared laughter.

So you know a little more than what the goats taught you.

Hans leads you back inside the house, where the lanterns have been turned to low, orange specks of light. You fix your eyes on the nape of his neck ahead of you as the two of you climb the stairs, making your way back to the master bedroom. The cacophony of the wedding celebration is far away; he opens the door, draws you inside, and shuts it behind him.

You stand in the middle of the room, looking at him. This whole evening has felt like a dream, but as you gaze at your husband, you suddenly feel like you’re waking up. You have not been alone with Hans since you met him, not really, and you realize he hasn’t felt quite real to you because of it. You almost feel as if you can see him, for the first time, see the words that have made him up in your memory coalesce into the flesh-and-blood man standing before you.

This is him. This is Hans. This is the man you love.

Softly, you approach him. Reach up with two hands to take his face in them; press your lips, shyly, unpracticed, to his.

“Hans,” you say, more softly than you have ever said anyone’s name in your life, looking into the pale blue of his eyes.

He gazes down at you. “Let’s get undressed,” he says.

It’s the moment you expected, but it daunts you nonetheless. You nod, step away from your husband, and he sets to the task—he shucks his coat, dropping it on the floor, and unhooks his suspenders. Swiftly you turn away from him when he begins unbuttoning his shirt, face blazing—of course, you’ve seen men undress before, you have three brothers, but this—this—

The reality of what you are about to do douses you all at once, soaking you to the bone. When you bring your hands up to the buttons of your bodice, they are trembling; you can barely get the tiny pearls between your fingers to undo them. You hear more clothes land on the floor behind you as you struggle, and then nothing. Stillness.

His eyes are heavy on your back. He is silent as you finally get the jacket off, and the blouse along with it; he is silent as you push the skirt down over your hips, the garment piling on the floor.

Your whole body is shaking by the time you’re down only to your chemise, shivering like a foal on new legs as you bare your shoulders. You close your eyes. There’s no need to be afraid as you shuffle the garment down your back. It’s only your husband behind you, looking at you as you bare your buttocks, as you step out of the split shorts, as the cool night air caresses your naked belly.

“That’s enough,” Hans says behind you when your hands go to the ties on your stockings.

You go still.

“Get on the bed, now.”

You focus on your breathing. Long breaths, in and out, as you crawl belly-first onto the mattress, which sinks luxuriously under your weight, softer than any bed you’ve lain on in your life. Suddenly, before you have time to adjust, the mattress sinks even more under you, and an envelope of heat and weight looms over you, pressing hard onto you, bare skin and the smell of sweat and the sound of another person’s breathing over you invading your senses.

Then there’s something blunt nudging at the entrance of your sex. A hand on your hip, gripping tight. The blunt thing circles briefly, parting your folds, and then is pressing into you. Pressing in somewhere tight, somewhere that doesn’t want to open to let it in. You hold your breath. It presses harder, fighting the resistance, and then finally gets past it, just a half inch or so—and suddenly it hurts.

“Hans,” you whisper.

He hasn’t seem to have heard you. He pushes harder, just a bit further. There’s another wall of resistance, this one needling and far more solid. You gasp sharply at the dryness of it, the way his member seems to want to push your own folds up into you as it tries to get in, shoving, bludgeoning, and then, mercifully, Hans pulls away.

It’s on the tip of your tongue to suggest that maybe the two of you try this later. Clearly there is something about you that’s not ready for it—but then his hand is between your legs, smearing something slippery around, and just briefly he touches something that pulses with interest. You jolt as little sparks of pleasure dance through you but quickly burn out, and then, the blunt head of his cock is back, pushing in, much faster, much smoother, huge and hard—

Suddenly it is sharp inside you, razor sharp, paralyzing. You shriek in pain, tears welling acidic in your eyes, shocked, betrayed, and he keeps coming, an endless length of him forcing inside, making room where there is none, going somewhere it clearly must not belong—and then he groans, loud and guttural, and begins to pull out.

You don’t have enough time to mistake this for the end of it. He pulls out halfway and then rams back in, slamming against your body, punching what must be the very limit of the space he can make for himself in your body. Pain roars to life around his cock, radiating outward, a ripping and shredding that grows as he forces himself into you again, and then again, and then it’s happening for real, he’s begins thrusting so fast it knocks the breath from your lungs, slapping his hips against your backside as he grunts and groans behind you like a dumb animal. He batters some nexus of agony that sends you screaming, shrieking with every jerk of his hips, tears streaming down your face as you grip the blanket in clawed fingers.

“Please, Hans, stop, please!”you wail. “Stop, stop, stop—”

His hand grips back of your head, turning your face downward—pressing it against the bed, muffling your mouth and nose and eyes into the blanket—

He jerks against you as agony writes itself into your bone marrow. Your hands circle in on themselves so tightly you feel your fingernails bite into your palms. Any memory of laughter you ever had abandons you.

Then, suddenly, mercifully, he’s forcing himself into you as deeply as he can, groaning loud, and something warm blooms in you, squelches out warm and sticky as he pulls in and out a few more times. He stills then from his furious rutting, hanging over you, panting.

Then he pulls out. Your husband lets you go and rolls over, breathing hard on the bed. You lay absolutely dead still, shaking violently, every muscle in your body tensed up painfully tight.

“Hans,” you whimper, “Hans.”

“Mm-hm,” he hums.

“Hans.” Every nerve is vibrating with pain. “Hans, that hurt.”

There is a long silence after. So long, you start to believe that he won’t say anything; that perhaps, even, he’s fallen asleep, and your words have dropped like flies from the air between you before they reached him.

But he hasn’t fallen asleep. Your husband shuffles off the bed, lifts the linen, and shuffles back into it. The lantern light is dim in the bedroom, but light enough that you can see the nonplussed expression on his face.

“Anna got used to it,” he says finally, eyes closing. “You will too.”

And he turns on his side and says no more to you.

You lay there aching. When you drag your fingers through the slick mess between your thighs, streaks of red intermingle with the clear and the white.

Suddenly you want this day to be over. You want to close your eyes and dream that it never happened—or maybe, if you go to sleep, you’ll awaken to find that it was all a dream after all, and you’re still home, your mother cooking just outside the bedroom door. Slowly, you inch off the bed, finding the floor with your stockinged feet, and go to douse the lanterns.

The room is cold and silvery without their light. Darkness gathers in the corners, around the weak glow of moonlight failing to fully penetrate the curtains over the window. You gingerly swipe the cloth from a nearby washbasin between your legs, cleaning up the remnants of your husband’s pleasure, and then, with nowhere else to go, you return to the empty side of the bed and crawl stiffly under the covers.

He does not stir as you settle in beside him. You lay your head on the pillow next to his and fold your hands over your stomach.

Outside and far away, you think you can hear the band still merrily playing. The darkness deepens, and deepens, until you can’t tell where it ends and you begin.

#gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz x you #gaz x y/n #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz x you #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #cod fanfic #blackbird fly #mwritesgaz #madi writes #sorry this was gnarly #also if this is like. weird. in my defense i wrote most of it while sick with covid #side note when writing that first scene i suddenly viscerally understood what the dark romance girlies (gn) were all about

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 1 year ago

Text

The Experiment

Note: requested by anon! You gave me a lot of creative control, so I hope I captured what you wanted. Also thanks to @foxyanon for helping me decide what kind of business he's in ;)

Warnings: 18+! fluff/smut.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You married Sihtric at first sight.

wordcount: 4,8k

Masterlist

You still couldn't believe how handsome your husband was. So very, unbelievably handsome… and not only that. Oh, no, for he was handsome, but he was also incredibly hot and ridiculously sexy. You couldn't keep your sunglasses-hidden eyes off him as you sat on a lounge chair beside the resort's swimming pool, making sketches and doodles of his features while he was making business call after business call. And those never ending business calls were the only thing so far you didn't like much about him. He had told you he was a businessman through and through, running a successful woodworking company. And successful it surely was, for Sihtric was showing it off by sporting fancy watches, expensive shades, designer blouses which, for some pleasant reason, always hung open to show off his ripped body, and in his tattooed hands he always held one of the latest smartphones, which he used for business of course.

Him doing business wasn't your main concern though, you were a successful painter afterall, so you knew all about doing business and you understood like no other that some deals just couldn't wait. What actually bothered you about your husband doing business at this very moment was that you were on your honeymoon, and a honeymoon was no place for business. At least, not that kind of business. This five day getaway you were on right now was arranged in order for you and Sihtric to get to know each other, you had been married at first sight nonetheless, and you had only said 'I do,' about 48 hours ago after having just met him moments before saying those very words. So who exactly your husband really was, underneath that smoking hot appearance of his, was still a mystery. A mystery you were eager to solve.

To your horror you found out that your friends had signed you up for the marriage experiment about two months ago, and you quickly received the news you were chosen when a match was found. You would've never participated in something like this on your own account, but you understood why your friends had signed you up. You had been single for years, always with your head between the canvases and your clothes smudged with paint. You were not interested in the dating scene, as men would only take advantage of your looks and your wealth, so you were never really in a position to meet a potential life partner on your own. You simply didn't trust anyone you met through the various dating apps you had tried before, so when you gave this experiment a thought, you figured it wasn't all that bad of an idea to be matched blindly to a husband in an "arranged marriage", however medieval that may sound.

And therefore before you knew it, you were dressed in the most beautiful wedding gown and you walked down the aisle on your own, towards your future husband; one Sihtric Kjartansson. And he looked dashing, dressed in a fancy all black tuxedo with matching black shoes, his hair braided and the sides recently shaved, and that was only what you could see from the backside. It was when he turned around that you felt a hint of relief, for he was remarkably stunning, and you felt a rush of excitement when you noticed the tattoo on his neck. His facial hair was well kept, his smile showed you a good set of teeth, and also indicated that he didn't hate the way his mystery bride looked, and when you were close enough you noticed his beautifully mismatched eyes.

You awkwardly greeted each other and you both giggled like teenagers once you were holding hands as the officiant began the ceremony. You saw his fingers were tattooed and you felt his hands were a little clammy, like yours, and you also noticed how couldn't keep his eyes off you and had to fight a shy smile each time you looked up into his eyes.

Everything seemed to happen so fast, and you tried to focus on the beautiful man in front of you as he vowed to love you, to honour you and to protect you for as long as he may live. But before you could truly comprehend what you were participating in, you were suddenly brought back to reality as you were pronounced husband and wife, and you knew that everyone who was there to witness the marriage was expecting to see a first kiss too. Sihtric gave you a look, a silent question if it was okay to give you at least a peck on your lips, to which you shrugged shyly and then nodded. Your husband smiled just as shyly as you, and as he leaned in he cupped your cheek with one hand and gave you a quick but rather firm kiss, which took your breath away while both your friends erupted in cheers and whistles.

During the wedding dinner you were given some time to interact, and so you found out about his job and also that, after he had joked around one evening with some friends who were his best men at the wedding, he had applied for the experiment. To his surprise he was matched, with you, and he confessed he felt like he wasn't truly there in the moment, as everything felt like a strange dream.

'A good dream, though,' Sihtric quickly added, not wanting you to think he had regretted his choices, 'but it's a lot.'

You agreed and told him you felt the same, admitting how nervous you had been the whole day.

'Oh, me too,' Sihtric snorted, 'I panicked a little this morning. But,' he cleared his throat and seemed to consider his next words carefully, 'I, eh, yeah… when I turned around and saw you, my worries instantly faded away.'

You blushed and tripped over your words as you nervously picked at your food, not able to make a proper sentence or reply to him as he simply had you speechless by just his good looks, his charm and his sweet yet sexy smile. You just couldn't think straight whenever he spoke, for his honeyed voice was so warm and calm, and it weakened your knees the more he leaned in and the softer he spoke to you as the dinner progressed. You could listen to him talk forever, and you wondered why on earth a guy like him couldn't find a partner on his own.

'The dating scene is… harrowing,' he said, 'and I'm constantly busy too, I have no time to go out and date.'

'So you thought rushing into marriage was the best option?' you joked.

'Oh, it wasn't the best option, lady,' Sihtric grimaced, then chuckled, 'it was my only option.'

You both laughed and, to both of your displeasure, were interrupted when some of the guests present wanted to hold a speech. Both yours and Sihtric's friends had made speeches, in which you were told more about each other by the people who were close. So far there wasn't a single thing you didn't like about your husband, and he seemed pleased to find out you were a well known painter.

'So you are a busy person too, I take it?'

'I am,' you agreed while finishing your dinner, 'but I work from home, so I decide how much and when I work,' you shrugged, then looked at his plate, which still had some pasta left, 'are you going to finish that?'

Sihtric smiled and looked at you with a twinkle in his eyes, 'I actually was going to finish this,' he chuckled, 'but whatever's mine is yours now, right?' he winked and shoved his plate towards you.

'Husband of the year,' you mumbled with a grin.

Sihtric laughed and failed to keep his eyes off you, and he told you he also worked from home but that, unlike you, he couldn't just decide to call it a day.

'I receive calls and emails day and night,' he said and sipped his wine, 'that's something you need to know about me. Not everyone can deal with that.'

'I suppose it will be okay,' you smiled.

But you found out during your honeymoon that it wasn't that okay for you, and when an incident occurred while he was on his phone, you both got to see a whole different side of each other.

After the wedding dinner you were both exhausted and left the party early, finding alone time with your husband in the hotel suite down the road from the party venue. The entire day had been overwhelming for you both, and you desperately wanted to shower and get out of that tight fitting dress, which became suffocatingly tight after you had finished Sihtric's pasta.

The hotel room was decorated romantically by your matchmakers, with candles and rose petals all over the place. Sihtric, being somewhat old fashioned, insisted on carrying you over the doorstep and you immediately felt his strong arms were a safe haven. He carried you over to the bed and you both awkwardly stared at each other as you sat on the sheets, both still fully dressed.

'Can you, eh, maybe help me get out of his dress?' you asked with burning cheeks when you realised you could not undo the zipper on your own.

Without hesitation Sihtric jumped up and first helped you take off your heels before he led you to the bathroom, where he carefully unzipped your dress and traced his fingertips lightly over your exposed back as he locked eyes with you by looking into the large mirror above the sink. You smiled sweetly at each other, and Sihtric then told you the dress was fully unzipped so you wouldn't need his help anymore, and he left you alone to shower and dress comfortably.

After your husband had showered too and appeared out of the bathroom wearing grey sweatpants and no shirt, you felt flustered and it became clear to Sihtric too, who went out of his way to crack a few silly jokes to make you feel comfortable around him, and to show you he was not as intimidating as he may look, before he joined you in bed. You went over the events of the day together as you enjoyed the silence around you, laughing at how ridiculous everything was once you thought about it, and you both kept moving a little closer in bed as the hour progressed.

'I think I got really lucky,' Sihtric hummed softly while he stared at you.

You shyly agreed you felt lucky too and told him you thought he was way out of your league, to which Sihtric in turn confessed he felt the same about you. And it was inevitable that, as you continued to stare into each other's eyes while you laid next to each other, you eventually felt his lips pressed lightly onto yours. He pulled away again quickly though, still afraid to cross any boundaries with you and afraid that he may want more affection than you, but once you palmed his cheek and leaned in towards him he wasted no time in capturing you into a rather needy kiss that left you both breathless and with warm cheeks.

The next morning you were to be at the airport before noon to catch a flight to a warm island, where you would celebrate your honeymoon and really get to know each other. During the flight Sihtric couldn't really answer any emails or calls, so it was quite a pleasant trip as you were comfortably cuddled up against him while you were mindlessly sketching in your notebook. Sihtric quietly enjoyed watching you create the most amazing creatures and landscapes out of nothing, and it captivated him. He had looked you up online the night before already, as you took a shower, and he was surprised to see how successful and talented you were, but he was also surprised to see that somehow your arranged marriage had already made headlines. You saw it too before you boarded the plane, after your agent had texted you the articles, and you hated how Sihtric was now suddenly dragged into your ridiculous tabloid life, but he took it rather well and shrugged it off as he had made headlines too with his own company from time to time.

Once landed and en route to the resort you noticed how Sihtric's phone was constantly ringing and vibrating, and it seems the amount of calls and emails were just never ending. You figured it was because he hadn't been available during the wedding the day before and also not during the flight, so he had to catch up. He tried his best to give you his attention while he took call after call, and you told him not to worry about it. The day after, however, you became a little worried about it, as the non-stop calling had continued through the night and still continued through the day as you sat beside the pool. You had noticed Sihtric slip out of the bed numerous times in the night to make a call on the balcony, and you could hear it truly was about numbers and deals while you pretended to be asleep. You didn't mention it to him, as he was so sweet and caring whenever he was not using his phone, but it began to irritate you.

'So… your friends said during their speeches that you are adventurous,' you brought up when Sihtric finally sat down next to you again at the poolside, 'how about we go do something fun?'

Your husband was game immediately, but before you could get up and make way to the hotel room, he already received another call. And this continued as you left the hotel too. Sihtric apologised after every call, and you tried to take it as best as you could. To your delight he was really present during the activities you planned last minute, such as ziplining and cliff diving, and you truly understood why you were matched up as your energies matched entirely. Sihtric realised it too, and you both discussed it during dinner that evening.

'I could fall in love with you,' Sihtric said, 'if I haven't already.'

'I could too,' you smiled, 'whenever you're not on your phone,' you added lightheartedly.

'I know,' he sighed, 'I know it's a problem, and I'm really trying… you know, to make this work.'

'I know,' you agreed, 'and I know I said it wasn't going to be a problem, but it's… I didn't expect it would be such a big part of your daily life. I'm trying not to make a big deal out of it, but it's pretty rough. I mean, we're on our honeymoon,' you shrugged lightly, 'so��'

'I know, you're right,' Sihtric said and he sighed when his phone rang again.

You both stared at the incoming call, and you were pleased when your husband didn't answer the call and instead took your hand.

'How about we go have some fun tonight?' he asked with a cheeky smirk.

And a fun time you had later that night. Your husband had switched off his phone and took you out to a random club on the island, where you had drinks and danced the night away while touches lingered, smiles were contagious and kisses were stolen from each other's lips the whole time. And the night proved you had been right before; you could truly fall in love with Sihtric, even if he was still a stranger to you in many ways. And it was evident that your husband felt the same way, for his hands held your waist while you danced together, all warm and sweaty from the crowded place and the tropical temperature outside, with your buttocks pressed against his groyne and his lips grazing your ear as he spoke.

'Fuck,' his half drunken laugh sounded in your ear while his hot breath caressed your cheek, 'I think I'm in love with you, darling.'

'I think I'm in love with you too, babe,' you giggled and turned to face him, his hands never leaving your body and pulling you closer once your eyes were locked with his.

'Is that the alcohol talking?' Sihtric asked after he had leaned in, resting his temple against yours while you continued to move to the beat.

'No, I'm not drunk,' you laughed, your hands finding his warm neck and keeping him close, 'maybe a little… are you?'

'Maybe a little,' he grinned, 'but… you really like me?'

'I do,' you half shouted over the music, 'do you really like me?'

'Of course I do,' Sihtric smiled and lifted your chin up with a tap of his fingers, and he brought his lips towards yours, touching lightly, 'you're my wife.'

He then kissed you for a long moment as if no one was around, and you felt one hand slide down your frame and to your thighs, while he still kissed you, and he snuck his hand underneath your short dress while his other hand landed on the back of your neck. He dragged his lips back to your ear and laughed mischievously before he spoke.

'This,' he breathed with a smile as he teasingly dragged his fingers over your thinly clothed folds, 'is mine,' he chuckled and bit your ear playfully, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine as your breath hitched in your throat.

'Is that so?' you taunted with your hands on his chest, underneath his fancy and unbuttoned designer blouse.

'It is so,' Sihtric claimed, and your lips crashed into yet another fiery kiss.

'We never consummated the marriage,' you said after the kiss was broken, 'did we?'

'We did not,' your husband agreed, and you both smirked at each other, 'finish your drink, and I'll call us a cab back to the resort.'

You gulped down your drink and excused yourself to the toilets before leaving the club, and you told Sihtric to go and call a cab outside and that you'd meet him there. You found him at the side of the road shortly after, and he was on his phone. You walked up to him and, as you expected he was calling a cab, moved closer to kiss his cheek. But you stopped abruptly when you heard Sihtric speak of huge amounts of money and the name of his business fell in the conversation too. A sudden irritation took over, which Sihtric noticed, and he gestured as if apologising to you for making, yet again, another business call. When he finally hung up you found out he hadn't called a cab yet, which annoyed you even more because that meant he had taken a business call immediately upon stepping out of the club, and so you told him in your anger that you'll be inside again and that he should come find you once a cab would finally arrive. Sihtric was confused and not sure if he should follow you back inside the club or call that cab, as he had no experience yet with a slightly angered version of you, and so he thought it was safer to keep his distance and remained outside. He called a cab and, naturally, made a few business calls while waiting.

To make your annoyance worse you realised Sihtric hadn't followed you back inside the club, but had instead stayed outside, and you sighed at the thought that all men are dumb and need to have everything spelled out for them. You wanted him to follow you, you wanted him to take your hand and say sorry and kiss you, you wanted him to hold you in his arms while you'd wait outside for the driver to arrive… but none of that happened. Instead, what did happen was that some guy recognized you, as he clearly was a fan of your work, and because he was a fan of your work he thought it was appropriate to grope you. You punched the man between his eyes in response and, moments later, Sihtric saw how a huge security guard had picked you up in his arms to kick you and your "fan" out of the club.

'What the hell happened?' Sihtric scoffed as he immediately came over, 'our ride is here-' he stopped talking when he saw your reddened first and the man's bruised nose, 'wait, did you punch that-'

'Yes!' you snarled, cutting him off as you walked over to the cab, 'while you should've punched him for me! But you were too busy with your stupid business. You vowed to protect me, well, guess what!?' you threw your hands up, 'you already failed as a husband!'

You got in the backseat of the cab without looking back at your husband, and he quickly snapped out of his surprised state to follow you and jump in the car too. The ride back to the resort was completely silent, Sihtric knew he fucked up and he knew you were right. He had already broken one of his vows, and you hadn't even been married for three days. His phone kept buzzing the entire ride, but he knew better than to answer any business calls right now.

'Are you okay?' Sihtric asked as you both walked up to the resort entrance, after he had paid the driver.

'Fine,' you said curtly, walking ahead of him, and he had to skip to keep up with you.

'Are you hurt, baby?' concern clear in his voice.

'No.'

Sihtric then took your hand to stop you from walking and made you face him.

'Are you mad at me?'

You didn't answer, you just gritted your teeth and clenched your jaw before you looked up at him, furious at his stupid question.

'Baby?'

'You vowed to protect me,' you said again, pulling your hand out of his, and you shrugged, 'and you weren't there.'

'I know, and I'm sorry,' Sihtric said with regret in his eyes, 'but I had to take-'

'Take a call, I know,' you rolled your eyes, 'that's all you seem to do.'

'Well I'm sorry!' he raised his voice and threw his hands up, 'I'm sorry, okay! I told you I'm a busy guy-'

'We are on our honeymoon!' you snapped, 'I am also a busy person! But you don't see me painting here for hours on end or arranging venues for my next exhibition, do you?!'

Sihtric opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted when his own phone buzzed again and added fuel to the already explosive fire.

'I… I really have to take this,' he mumbled painfully embarrassed, and you watched him bring his phone to his ear, but before he could reach it you snatched it out of his hands.

'Sihtric is on his honeymoon!' you shouted at whoever called him and flung the device across the street.

You both watched as his phone bounced on a firm green bush, and then off the cliff on which the resort was located, and a vague shattering sound was heard seconds later which told you his phone had landed on the rocks near the beach below. Sihtric stood there, frozen, his hand still next to his face and shaped as if he was holding his phone, while you stood there gaping at your own actions. You swallowed hard and looked at your husband, who was in a complete state of shock and couldn't seem to close his mouth, like you, except you suddenly began to chuckle which turned into a howling laughter. You covered your mouth as you couldn't help your laughter at the absurd moment, and to your surprise your husband suddenly snorted and bursted into a laughing fit himself.

'You… you just ruined a deal which was worth about three million,' he laughed and then covered his mouth with his hands as another state of shock hit him, 'sweetheart- you… you just… oh, gods,' he gasped, and began to laugh again, but it was a maddening laugh this time.

'Only three million,' you snorted, 'that's pocket money for you, isn't it? You'll live.'

Sihtric laughed and then sighed, rubbing his face, 'Yeah, I'll live,' he said and shook his head before he laughed again, 'fucking hell,' he scoffed.

'Besides,' you shrugged and finally stepped through the resort entrance door, 'I'm worth more than three million.'

You stopped walking when you noticed Sihtric was still more or less nailed to the ground after losing a huge business deal, his hands on his braided hair, and you turned to face him.

'So are we going to consummate this marriage now, or what?!'

'Good gods,' Sihtric mumbled to himself, with a smitten smile on his face as he watched you storm towards the elevator, 'she's insane and my wife. I really did get lucky.'

He stalked towards you as you waited impatiently for the elevator, and he had wrapped his arms around you and pushed you inside with him. A short and surprised yelp left your mouth, but you were quickly silenced by your husband's lips while his hands roamed all over your figure as the doors closed.

'You're really something, aren't you, sweetheart?' Sihtric husked in between kisses.

'Something too much for you?' you raised a teasing eyebrow and bit down on your lip as you smirked, your hands lightly tugging at his unbuttoned blouse.

'Oh, I can handle you, darling,' your husband gave you a cocky look, 'don't worry about that.'

'I don't doubt that,' you said, 'but the real question is,' you paused and exhaled sharply as you traced your fingers down over his skin, from his neck to the leather belt which held his jeans, 'can my husband satisfy me?'

With that question unanswered, the elevator arrived at your floor and you stepped out, swaying your hips a little extra as you walked to the room, and your husband surely enjoyed the view as his eyes were fixated on you while he followed you and already imagined how he was going to satisfy and ravage you, you know, as a good husband does.

Sihtric slammed the door shut behind him and he reached for your arm, pulling you towards him and kissing you deeply with a newly discovered hunger and passion. His hands were all over your body and in your hair, his tongue in your throat and his trapped arousal poked you almost bruisingly as you were pressed against him. You melted in his touch and got lost in his kiss, hastily taking off his blouse and your hands were fast to work his belt as you pulled him towards the bed and unzipped his jeans. His fingers slid underneath the straps of your dress, and he lowered them along with his hands down your shoulders.

Once naked you laid down on the bed and Sihtric climbed on top of you, while the room filled itself with the thick and warm breaths you both took in between the constantly sloppier getting kisses. You gasped when your husband pushed his length inside you, after the teasing became unbearable at last, and your eyes widened in surprise while your lips curled into a dazed grin as you felt the size of him.

'Hm,' Sihtric hummed and chuckled darkly when he looked at you, 'yeah, you better like that,' he kissed you and bit your lower lip lightly, 'because that's the only cock you'll be getting from now on.'

You squirmed at his possessive yet harmless words and giggled as your lust filled eyes trailed down his body and back up to his eyes, and you smiled almost wickedly.

'Well… you're not the only one who got lucky then it seems,' you purred, after which Sihtric smiled and kissed you, before he fucked you with a mixture of lust, fresh love and a slight hint of anger as you truly challenged his authority in this marriage just moments ago.

His hands grabbed your hips as he rutted against you, hitting all the right spots for you as you clawed at his biceps.

'Oh, god,' you moaned, your eyes nearly rolling back, 'right there,' you breathed as the bed creaked beneath you and the headboard rhythmically banged against the wall.

'Right there?' Sihtric husked as he showed no sign of slowing down, 'yeah? You like that?'

You murmured inaudibly as you could only moan and gasp at the way he completely ruined you, albeit lovingly and passionately, fucking you right out of your mind. And after you came screaming his name, he followed shortly and fucked you through his high with slow, deep strokes, and he brought his lips to your ear as his arms were wrapped tightly and safely around you.

'All… fucking… mine,' your husband rasped before he kissed you again.

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eolewyn1010 · 6 months ago

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Downton Abbey Fashion 29 - festive occasions in the 1920s

There are times when the Crawleys wear a sort of outfit that I tentatively want to call “semi-formal”? They leave the house in these, so it’s not exactly an indoor look, and it’s day wear, not evening, but it’s often more lightweight than a coat or walking suit, and the optics go more in the direction of their garden fashions – light, mostly pastel colors, flowered hats, loosely falling robes… The occasions in question are 1st, Mary’s wedding, 2nd, a family picnic at Eryholme which at that time might become their new home, 3rd, Edith’s little disaster of a wedding, and finally, the baptism of Sybil junior.

The only occasion for which Violet bothers to get a new outfit is Mary’s wedding; for the others, she repeats a few of her already-established coats. This is stylistically familiar though, and in fact she combines it with a tulle-wrapped hat she’s worn before. I do love the cream coat; can’t quite tell the material, but it’s something softly shiny. And then she goes all extra on the cuffs and hem – this trim is easily five or six inches of piping flowers and ferns.

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Remember when I said that Martha doesn’t really cross the line into tasteless? Well. I’ll admit it: This one is kind of tacky. Lady, tone down the fur and velvet; this is not a winter wedding. Admittedly, the turban-like head wrap is something I would have enjoyed a great deal more in an evening setting. Martha loves her some quirky 1920s headdresses. But for the day, the plumage seem a little much.

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For her son’s wedding to Mary, Isobel got a lovely light blue walking coat that she repeats later for the Eryholme picnic, if with a less frothy hat. What I find funny during the wedding is that the cream collar with the darling birds-and-flowers embroidery makes Isobel look like she coordinated with the random extra next to her, a nameless lady in cream with a similar embroidery motif on the lapels.

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Cora wears this long lavender coat for Mary’s wedding and for Sybbie’s baptism, a pretty rose-patterned damask with a long plain collar. I think this is supposed to be a matching set with the dress she wears under it, a lilac number with a velvet sash. The main variation between the wedding and the baptism is that for the former, she wears a ton of white fabric flowers on her hat and another huge one pinned to her lapel, whereas for the baptism she’s way more toned down, nothing on her lapel and the flowers on her hat much smaller and darker. Granted, that baptism has an overlap with mourning time.

Despite financial hardships, Cora can afford new hats all the time. What do you know. I kind of like the pleated design of the crown here, but not the overall shape if that makes sense. The sandy walking suit with the giant folded lapels will transition into her everyday wardrobe in season 4, although by then she picks a rather less flattering hat to go with it. I don’t know what these buttons are doing down there; they sure aren’t shutting the coat in any meaningful way. They just look nice, I guess.

This is Cora’s get-up for Edith’s wedding, and it has to be the first time I am aware of that the hatband was actually made to fit the cardigan. See? That’s the exact same flower embroidery. And back with a ton of white flowers on her hat. I like the jacket, but the outfit overall is a bit unspectacular, as is to be expected from a wedding guest who’s not to outshine the bride. Would probably pop more if she wore that over a red blouse.

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We’ll get to what Mary wears to her wedding in a separate post, but for Edith’s wedding, she shows up in light blue chiffon and what I think is a layer of white lace. The drop waist sash, the sleeves and the hatband are all the same material, all pastel on pastel plus pearls; it’s all very rich boring white people. But at least it’s flattering. Edith gets fucked over by her outfits for these occasions.

Granted, Mary’s baptism look is really dowdy. Why is she dressed like her mother-in-law? This dress tries to do something with lavender and purple piping, but the placement of it doesn’t do much to enhance the outfit. I think she stole her mother’s jewelry again though; this is the exact necklace Cora was wearing with her beige picnic coat above.

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Why. Why did they put Edith in this for Mary’s wedding? At this point, her sense of fashion has developed so much that this stupid, unflattering granny dress looks dissonant. She’s wearing a sack with a big flower on it. And what’s with the plump pin tucks in the skirt? They throw this so off balance. Ugh, anyway. The hat is quite lovely.

I found the last dress so ugly that this one, which she wears for the baptism, is already an upgrade. The color is not for Edith imo, but the drop waist has a patterned sash that is kind of nice, and while the sleeves look baggy, it at least has a pretty neckline.

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Sybil got a rather nice look for Mary’s wedding. Why couldn’t Edith wear something like this? The color and weight is similar, blue chiffon, but the scarf matching the dress looks way more elegant than that strange embroidery. Any additional color is banned to the hat embroidery, which looks cute but less grand than those of her relatives because Sybil isn’t about that life anymore.

Her hat for Edith’s wedding has pretty much the same shape, the brim widening to the front and curving a bit up to form something akin to a bonnet, but it’s white with a lilac ribbon to match her dress. This dress is quite similar to Mary’s for the same event, chiffon with floral white lace, but it has some additional trim with an under layer in a darker purple, and the skirt has a little gathering on the side.

#Downton Abbey #historical fashion #Downton Abbey's costume fund

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shaadiwish · 1 year ago

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Manish Malhotra has been a cult favorite for many brides. And if you are a millennial bride, then we bet you have pinned some of the ace designer’s blouse designs.

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shaadidukaanprewedding · 3 months ago

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#Blouse Designs For Winter Brides #fashionable Blouse Designs For Winter #Blouse Designs For Winter

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indiedrape · 7 days ago

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💎 Stunning Turquoise Satin Bridesmaid Saree with Blouse Piece – Perfect for Weddings & Ceremonies 💎

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samkkshopping · 9 months ago

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Henna Glam: The Hottest Mehendi Lehengas for Contemporary Brides

The mehendi ceremony is one of the most joyous and vibrant pre-wedding events, filled with fun, laughter, and intricate henna designs. For brides, selecting the perfect Mehendi Lehenga is crucial as it sets the tone for this lively celebration.

Whether you’re searching for a Lehenga Online or planning a trip for Lehenga Shopping, there are countless Lehenga Designs to consider. In this article, we’ll explore the latest trends in Mehendi Lehengas, focusing on colors, styles, and where to find the best collections.

Styles and Designs

Lehenga Choli: Timeless and grand.

The classic Lehenga Choli remains a favorite for mehendi ceremonies. This style features a flowing skirt paired with a fitted blouse, offering a blend of tradition and contemporary fashion. Lehenga for Women in this style can be found in a variety of fabrics and embellishments.

Heavy Mehendi Lehenga: “Rich and elaborate.

For brides who love grandeur, a Heavy Mehendi Lehenga is the perfect choice. These lehengas are richly adorned with intricate embroidery, beads, and sequins, ensuring that the bride looks nothing short of spectacular.

Mehendi Lehenga with Dupatta Styles: Stylish and versatile.

The dupatta is an essential part of the Mehendi Lehenga ensemble. From single to double dupattas, there are numerous ways to drape this piece. A beautifully styled dupatta can enhance the overall look of the lehenga.

Mehendi Lehenga Blouse Designs: Modern and chic.

The blouse is a significant element of the Lehenga Choli. Modern brides are experimenting with various blouse designs, from off-shoulder to backless styles. A well-designed blouse can add a contemporary touch to the traditional lehenga.

Some of the Traditional Mehendi Lehenga Colors and its Significance:

Ivory Mehendi Lehenga: Pure and elegant.

An Ivory Mehendi Lehenga paired with delicate gold or pastel embroidery can create a timeless look that exudes grace and charm.

Gold Mehendi Lehenga: Opulent and festive.

A Gold Mehendi Lehenga is ideal for brides who want to make a statement. The shimmering fabric, adorned with sequins and intricate zari work, can make any bride feel like royalty.

Pastel Mehendi Lehenga: Fresh and modern.

A Pastel Mehendi Lehenga in shades of mint, lavender, or blush can bring a fresh and modern twist to traditional bridal wear. These soft hues are perfect for a daytime mehendi ceremony and look stunning in natural light.

Pink Mehendi Lehenga: Classic and versatile.

A Pink Mehendi Lehenga can range from soft baby pinks to vibrant fuchsias, offering something for every bride. This versatile color complements the festive mood of the mehendi ceremony beautifully.

Yellow Mehendi Lehenga: Joyful and bright.

A Yellow Mehendi Lehenga can be paired with contrasting colors like pink or green for a vibrant look. This sunny shade is sure to make the bride stand out.

Blue Mehendi Lehenga: Regal and unique.

Blue is an unconventional yet striking choice for a Mehendi Lehenga. From royal blue to aqua, this color can be as bold or as subtle as you like. A Blue Mehendi Lehenga can add a touch of regal elegance to the celebration.

Multicolor Mehendi Lehenga: Festive and lively.

For brides who can’t settle on just one color, a Multicolor Mehendi Lehenga is the way to go. This style incorporates a rainbow of hues, creating a festive and lively ensemble that’s perfect for the mehendi ceremony.

Green Mehendi Lehenga: Traditional and auspicious.

Green is another popular choice for mehendi ceremonies due to its traditional and auspicious connotations. A Green Mehendi Lehenga can range from deep emeralds to light lime shades, each bringing its own unique charm.

Where to Buy Designer Mehendi Lehengas Online

When it comes to purchasing a Lehenga Online, Samyakk is a name that stands out. Known for its exquisite collection of Designer Mehendi Lehengas, Samyakk offers a wide range of styles and designs to choose from. Whether you’re looking for an Ivory Mehendi Lehenga, a Gold Mehendi Lehenga, or a Multicolor Mehendi Lehenga, you’ll find it all at Samyakk.

Top Mehendi Lehenga Retail Shop in India

While online shopping offers convenience, nothing beats the experience of Lehenga Shopping in person. India boasts several top retail shops where you can find the perfect Mehendi Lehenga. Among them, Samyakk’s physical stores are renowned for their vast collection and exceptional customer service.

Best Lehenga Store in Bangalore

For brides in Bangalore, Samyakk is the go-to destination for bridal lehengas. As the Best Lehenga Store in Bangalore, Samyakk offers an extensive range of Mehendi Lehenga Choli sets, ensuring that every bride finds her dream outfit.

Top Ethnic Lehenga Store

Samyakk has built a reputation as a Top Ethnic Lehenga Store, for providing high-quality, fashionable, and traditional bridal wear. Their collection includes not only mehendi lehengas but also Wedding Lehengas, Reception Lehengas, Sangeet Lehengas, and Engagement Lehengas.

Conclusion

Choosing the perfect Mehendi Lehenga involves considering various factors like color, style, and where to buy it. Whether you prefer shopping online or visiting a store, Samyakk offers a comprehensive range of options to suit every bride’s taste. From Ivory Mehendi Lehengas to Multicolor Mehendi Lehengas, their collection ensures that you’ll find the perfect outfit to make your mehendi ceremony unforgettable. Happy Lehenga Shopping!

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

What are the trending colors for Mehendi Lehengas? A: The trending colors for Mehendi Lehengas include ivory, gold, pastel shades, pink, yellow, blue, multicolor, and green. Each color brings its own unique charm to the mehendi ceremony, with options ranging from traditional to modern hues.

How can I choose the perfect Mehendi Lehenga for my body type? A: When choosing a Mehendi Lehenga, consider styles that complement your body shape. A-line lehengas suit most body types, while fishtail or mermaid cuts flatter hourglass figures. Opt for Lehenga Choli styles with fitted blouses and flared skirts for a balanced look.

What are the latest trends in Mehendi Lehenga designs? A: The latest trends in Mehendi Lehenga designs include heavy embroidery, multicolor patterns, modern blouse designs, and innovative dupatta draping styles. Brides are also embracing contemporary elements like off-shoulder blouses and minimalistic embroidery.

Where can I buy designer Mehendi Lehengas online? A: You can buy designer Mehendi Lehengas online from reputed stores like Samyakk. They offer a wide range of lehengas in various styles, colors, and designs, ensuring that you find the perfect outfit for your mehendi ceremony.

How should I accessorize my Mehendi Lehenga? A: Accessorizing your Mehendi Lehenga involves choosing complementary jewelry, footwear, and hair accessories. Consider traditional pieces like jhumkas, maang tikka, and bangles. Pair your lehenga with comfortable yet stylish footwear and match your hairstyle with elegant hairpins or floral accessories.

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