#Arnav and khushi

[msbhagirathi]

I like how Penelope is a writer and her nick name is also 'Pen'. Like..fantastic..ally..poetic..ally..beautiful..ly..whatever..

[riotinyellow]

They really did eat with arnav's theme

[pyaargulzar]

guidance (pt. 5)

summary: with both lovers being miles away, their yearning intensifies. maybe what arnav taught khushi can be put to use to help them both?~

themes: romance, mature, mutual yearning woohoo, self-exploration on khushi's end, smut heehee, "main jo karunga, kya tum woh kar paogi?"

a/n: please feel free to show love/drop your thoughts!! these last 2 parts made me feel so down, i was literally writing to my depression playlist LOL 🥹 would LOOOVE to know if you liked this read 🫶

The boardroom was a battlefield.

Arnav’s voice cut through the heated debate like a blade, his fingers steepled under his chin as he dismantled arguments with ruthless precision. The numbers on the screen were his ammunition—every decimal point, every projection—and he wielded them with the same cold focus that had built his empire. The air was thick with tension, the hum of the projector the only sound as his team waited for his next move.

“If we pivot now, we lose leverage in the Asian markets. The data doesn’t support this gamble.”

His CFO opened his mouth to protest, but a single glance from Arnav silenced him. The man’s jaw snapped shut, his fingers tightening around his pen. The room exhaled. Deal closed.

Yet as his team shuffled out, murmuring praises, Arnav’s gaze drifted to his phone—dark, silent. 

They didn’t know that his sharpness today stemmed from the fact that he hadn’t spoken to his wife. Nor did they know that he had begun yearning for her more desperately after dreaming about bending her over his desk, his hands gripping her hips, her breathy moans filling the silence of his office.

Maybe it was something in the air—the sterile, impersonal scent of the hotel, the endless cycle of meetings with new clients, the way every interaction felt like a negotiation. Whatever it was, it left him on edge, his skin too tight, his thoughts too loud.

That night, as the shower steamed around him, water sluicing off his tense shoulders, he braced his palms against the tiles, head bowed. It had been years since he’d let himself ache like this. He felt like a teenager in heat, restless and desperate, wishing he could teleport home. No one else and nothing else would do—he needed Khushi.

Her absence wasn’t just an emotional void; it was a physical torment—the hollow in his chest, the way his fingers twitched for the warmth of her waist. He’d spent half his life believing love was transactional, something he’d never earn. Too harsh. Too broken. As if he was too difficult to be loved.

But Khushi…Khushi loved him like breathing. Without reason, without limits. Her love never felt like too much—it was just right. A fresh sunny day, a warm cup of coffee, a blooming garden.

And everything felt right again once he finally heard her voice.

His thumb swiped over his phone screen, pulling up the private memo he’d drafted earlier: Gulfstream G700 – expedite purchase.

A ridiculous indulgence. But one he could most definitely afford. The thought of Khushi waiting at airports, worrying—no. He’d burn the money if it meant she’d never look that scared again. A cost-benefit analysis could never fulfill nor justify this need.

Four whole days without Arnav had passed.

Khushi’s clock was still stuck, her heart heavy with his absence. She missed him in everything she did—the way he’d grumble into his coffee in the mornings, the warmth of his hand at the small of her back, the sound of his voice when he whispered her name in the dark. The house had quickly become a whirlwind of activity—baby shower plans, nursery decorations, endless discussions about names—but none of it filled the space he left behind.

Today, she was helping Paayal select clothes for the baby, her fingers lingering over impossibly tiny onesies, her heart swelling at the thought of something so small and fragile coming into their lives.

Arnav had asked her to stop by his office later to pick up some files Aman had prepared. During their brief FaceTime calls, her world finally slowed. 

As she drove to the AR Design office, her mind wandered. She wanted to do so much—but what? Arnav had reassured her that her restlessness wasn’t a bad thing, but it didn’t make the confusion any easier.

The office buzzed with its usual energy, employees moving with purpose, the hum of printers and hushed conversations filling the air. Khushi lingered near Arnav’s empty desk, running a finger along the polished edge.

How would it feel to sit here? To run these halls again, this time with real purpose?

She cringed inwardly at the memory of her first chaotic days in the office—her unprofessionalism, the team’s resistance. But she had tried. She had learned. And now, standing here, she wondered what it would be like to be part of it all—the proposals, the projects, the thrill of building something.

Aman’s knock pulled her from her thoughts. “Ma’am?” He hovered in the doorway, holding a file. “The reports Sir requested are here.” He placed them on the desk.

“Aman-ji,” Khushi blurted, then hesitated. “How is it working here?”

Aman smiled, as if he understood exactly what she was asking. “I like it. There’s a lot to learn from Arnav Sir.” He nodded toward the desk. “There are some documents in the right drawer for you as well.”

Khushi hummed, pulling out the envelope with her name on it. But what caught her attention was the file labeled ‘AR Design Quarterly Results’.

As she flipped through the pages, something flickered in her chest. Columns of numbers, profit margins, KPI’s—this was the language of her husband’s world. The same world she’d dipped into blindly before:

Selling sweets to keep her family afloat.

Running a tiffin service after marriage, bartering with suppliers.

She’d done it all by instinct, never realizing she’d been building skills. Her father had been a businessman—of course this felt natural.

A realization bloomed in her chest, warm and certain. She didn’t need to overthink it anymore. Her usual gleeful smile returned as she gathered the files, her steps lighter on the way out. She couldn’t wait to tell Arnav. He had to be the first to hear.

The next day, Khushi found herself home alone, the house eerily quiet. Paayal and Aakash had slipped away on a whispered date, leaving her with nothing but her thoughts—and the growing, gnawing ache for Arnav.

His call usually came in the morning or afternoon, but today, there was nothing.

“I’ll call you late at night, your time,” he’d texted.

Now, as night fell, Khushi traced idle circles on her phone screen, the empty notification feed mirroring the hollowness in her chest. She wandered to his wardrobe, the cedar scent of his suits wrapping around her like phantom arms.

One by one, she touched the fabrics that had graced his skin—the charcoal suit he favored, the blue shirt he’d worn just before leaving. Pressing a sleeve to her face, she inhaled deeply, her knees nearly buckling at the fading traces of his cologne.

She surrendered to instinct, slipping into the black cotton shirt he slept in. The hem brushed her thighs as she crawled onto his side of the bed, burying her face in his pillow. Here, surrounded by his scent, the distance felt almost bearable.

The phone’s sudden vibration startled her awake at 1:00 AM. She fumbled for it, his shirt slipping off one shoulder as she answered.

Arnav’s face filled the screen as his eyes trailed her form. “Been wearing that all day?” His voice was rougher than usual.

Khushi shook her head, the movement making the neckline slide further. “Just since sunset.” Her fingers nervously plucked at the fabric. “I missed—”

The call ended abruptly.

Khushi’s stomach twisted—anxiety, frustration, a flicker of anger. The emotions were sharper in her sleepy haze.

Then, her phone buzzed.

“Sorry, call you back soon. Love you.” a text.

The tension in her chest eased. The next call came an hour later.

Khushi answered in the moonlight, curled in their bed, still wearing his shirt. The moment his face appeared, she beamed.

“You’re still wearing my clothes,” he noted, his voice darkening.

Her fingers plucked at the cotton as she hummed. “It smells like you.”

“Khushi,” he warned.

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Hmm?”

His jaw clenched. “Do you know what you’re doing? I rushed back to the hotel as soon as I could because of you”

She could feel the shift—the tension thickening, his gaze turning predatory. Her breath hitched.

Then, the words he’d been holding back,“Will you be able to do what I’m about to do?”

That same challenge, months later—but now, she knew exactly what it meant.

Her lips parted. “Try me,” she whispered, never one to back down.

Arnav moved the camera, revealing his bare torso, the hotel sheets pooled low on his waist.

Khushi gasped.

His skin was gilded in the dim light, muscles taut as he deliberately dragged the sheets lower, exposing the defined V leading to his manhood. His hand palmed himself through his boxers.

Khushi’s breath stuttered, her thighs pressing together.

“Arnav—”

He smirked, freeing himself from the fabric. His cock sprang free, thick and already hard, pre-cum glistening at the tip.

Khushi’s mouth watered, her fingers digging into the sheets.

“Touch yourself with me,” he commanded, his thumb smearing the wetness over his flushed head.

The slick sound made her whimper.

Obedience.

The glow of the screen highlighted every tremble of her fingers as she obeyed, tracing the neckline of his shirt.

Arnav’s voice was rough, possessive. “Slow. I want to see you.”

Khushi set the phone against her pillow, angling it so he could see everything. The way his shirt rode up her thighs, the bare skin of her legs, the rise and fall of her chest with every shaky breath. Her skin burned under his gaze.

“Arnav…” His name was a whisper, a plea.

His hand stroked lazily, his eyes locked onto her. “Move your hands…lower.”

Khushi’s fingers drifted down, skimming the swell of her breast through the thin cotton, her nipple pebbling under the fabric.

A sharp inhale from Arnav.

“Like this?” she teased, her touch slipping further, dipping between her thighs.

His groan was visceral. “Take it off.”

With shaky hands, she obeyed. The camera shook as she lifted the shirt, moonlight spilling over her bare skin—her flushed breasts, the curve of her waist, the desperate clench of her thighs.

Arnav’s growl sent a shock of heat straight to her core.

“Fuuuck, Khushi—” His hand tightened around his cock, holding himself back from spilling just at the sight of her.

She whimpered, her fingers slipping beneath her panties, finding herself already soaked.

“Look at me,” he demanded.

She did—her wide eyes meeting his darkened gaze as she circled her clit, mimicking the rhythm he used on her.

Arnav threw his head back, his hips jerking.

“I wish you were here,” Khushi gasped, her back arching. “I wish you were touching me.”

“Where?”

Her free hand trailed up her body, tracing her tummy, then moving to her breast, pinching a nipple, just the way he liked. “Everywhere.”

Arnav cursed, his grip tightening. “Take them off. Now.”

She hooked her fingers into her panties, peeling them down her legs before spreading them, her heat on full display for him.

Completely bare. Completely his.

Khushi’s fingers dipped inside herself, her moan high and desperate as she grinded down against herself.

“Arnav, I—I—”

“Tell me,” he growled.

“I’m empty—ahn—sooooo so empty without you.”

His rhythm stuttered, his cock leaking more pre against his stomach. “Fuck—”

She arched, her neck exposed, her breasts bouncing as she chased her release, his name a broken chant on her lips.

“Cum for me,” he ordered, his voice raw with need. “Now.”

And she completely shattered. A shrill cry, her body convulsing, her thighs clamping around her hand as pleasure ripped through her. She was riding her orgasm, two fingers curling to hit that spot Arnav showed her. She whimpered his name, “Cumming Arnaaav.”

Through the haze, she heard his climax—his ragged groan forcing her to open her eyes to see him fall apart. His hips jerked into his hand, cum spilling over his fist as he moaned. 

Watching him tipped her over, extending her release—her moan fractured into a gasp as she dragged her fingers out, slow and slick, her breath ragged as she studied them under the dim light.

Silence.

Then—

“Fuck this,” he panted. “I’m catching the next flight back.”

author's note: i've come to deliver on a promise teehee, i hope you liked part 5! heavily inspired by the ANON ask to tie in: main jo karunga, kya tum woh kar paogi?

lowkey want to integrate that into more intense scenes too (maybe? or a similar theme?)

[arshiradio]

ITV’s best enemies to lovers portrayal I’d die on this hill 🔥

[arshisrabbaves]

How Khushi and Arnav wanted to do each other during this episode:

No lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while they gasp for air scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the ool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick thribbing, first clenching, ear rining, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano eruption, destroying the insides.

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 22

Inches In Between Us

Disclaimer: 18+, mature content.

I am warning my sweet readers if you are sensitive to this kinda stuff, I just want to say to you, "Don't proceed any further, I'll see you in next chapter, have a good day."

Darling, can I be your favourite?

I'll be your girl, let you taste it.

- ( The song of the chapter is "Favourite" by Isabel LaRosa.)

It's liberating how, outside the confines of the mafia world, she exists as an ordinary face in a sea of billions. Few people know her, fewer recognize her, and in this anonymity, she finds freedom.

At Paragon Tech's Christmas party, she's just another employee, laughing, chatting, and blending seamlessly into the crowd.

Her off-white knee-length dress sways gently with her every movement. The dress is simple yet elegant, cinched at the waist to highlight her figure, with delicate lace sleeves that add a touch of flare. It's a perfect contrast to the bold red lips she's chosen, a daring statement she rarely makes.

The party is in full swing, with twinkling lights, festive music, and a lavishly decorated Christmas tree at the centre of the room. She's enjoying herself, mostly.

This night could have been perfect if only the boss were here.

Not that she'd ever admit it, of course. Her colleagues wouldn't understand. They'd frown at her so-called unhealthy fascination with their employer, though "fascination" wasn't quite the word she'd use. Irritation, perhaps. Or Frustration.

And if he'd been here tonight, she would have found a way to needle him, just a little.

But he wasn't.

So, she keeps her composure, masking her thoughts behind polite smiles and meaningless small talk, all while pretending she's not scanning the room, hoping he'll walk in any second.

She lets out a soft laugh, humouring the colleague standing in front of her. His attempts at flirtation are clumsy, but there's an innocence to it that she can't help but appreciate. His black eyes shimmer with nervous excitement, his words tumbling out in stilted sentences as he tries to keep her attention.

It's sweet, really. Charming in a way that reminds her of an uncomplicated past, a time when life didn't feel so heavy.

She listens, nodding in the right places, even allowing a genuine smile or two to escape. The simplicity of it all, the lack of pretence, and the raw honesty in his demeanour are refreshing.

But it's not enough.

Sweet black eyes aren't what she craves.

She wants eyes like molten caramel, staring at her with an intensity that makes her forget to breathe. She wants a gaze that pins her in place, leaving her exposed and vulnerable, yet setting her on fire from the inside out.

And she knows exactly who those eyes belong to.

Her smile falters for a fraction of a second, a moment so brief the man in front of her doesn't notice. She pulls herself back, burying the ache beneath layers of practised indifference.

The colleague continues, oblivious, but her thoughts are already miles away, lost in a pair of fiery caramel-brown eyes that haunt her every waking moment.

"Are you flirting with random people now?" His voice is cold, cutting through the silence as he stands there, rigid and unforgiving, his gaze sharper than his words. "Or did you forget that you're actually engaged?"

No, he didn't just say that. What the hell!

She whirls around to face him.

Hurt and betrayed.

She's come upstairs to retrieve her things. His presence in the building is unknown to her.

"What does it matter to you? I'm not engaged to you."

Something shifts in his eyes as he strides toward her. Her instincts scream at her to retreat. She does, step by step, until her back collides with the glass wall behind her. The cold surface seeps through her dress, but it's nothing compared to the icy fire in his gaze.

Drawing air into her chest becomes utterly difficult as he stops mere inches from her. Her heart races.

Because of his closeness,

Because of his unexplained anger,

the fact that she is trapped and she isn't getting out unless he chooses to let her go.

Her palms are about to make contact with his chest to push him away, to create even the smallest distance between them, but his hand catches her wrist mid-air.

Anger surges through her, heating her cheeks as she tries to wrench her arm free, twisting and pulling with all her might. But his grip is unyielding, calm, and maddeningly firm.

"Let me go," she hisses, struggling against him.

He doesn't. Instead, he moves her wrists effortlessly above her head, pinning them against the glass. Her body arches instinctively, her chest brushing against his with every shallow inhale.

And because she can do nothing else, she growls in a low and feral voice, "I hate you. How dare you?"

And just like the strike of a match, she feels as if something else sparks to life.

"You blushed for him,'' his voice barely above a whisper, soft and devastating, underlined with the slightest clench of teeth."Do you have any idea what that does to me?"

Her breathing falters, picking up pace as her pulse races wildly.

His gaze slides over her, slow and torturous, from her eyes to her lips, to the rise and fall of her chest. Her nipples harden, dragging along his hard chest with every laboured breath she takes.

Goosebumps break through her as his nose skims through her cheek. "Oh, little bird, you shouldn't have done that."

The anger in her battles against the molten warmth pooling low in her belly. A tremble racks her body as he presses his face into the curve of her neck and inhales deeply, inhales her.

The sound that escapes his throat is a deep, guttural rumble of satisfaction. It vibrates through her, leaving her knees weak and thrums between her legs. Her head tips back instinctively to bare more of her neck to the devastation as Sandalwood, cloves, leather and a hint of something uniquely him, wrap around her.

She's delirious, drunk on his nearness, his heat, his nose gliding into the soft skin of her neck.

Addictive, it is. His nearness is.

Always addictive.

Her body is on fire, and it spreads, engulfing her mind and her heart, turning her inside into lava. And there will be no reprieve until he gives her, Something. Anything. Everything.

He holds both of her wrists in one hand while his other hand slides from her wrist to her throat, his thick fingers wrapping around her delicate neck. Taking one more step, he presses his front fully against hers until they are flushed with one another.

She sucks in a sharp breath as his hips cage hers, his desire impossible to ignore. The heat of him, the sheer size, leaves her gasping.

Her mind screams at her to fight, to pull away, to keep the distance she knows is safest. But her body betrays her, responding to him in ways she can't control. She's drowning in him, in the way he makes her feel both powerful and powerless, both in control and completely at a loss.

It's his game of Control, she realises. And she suddenly knows this is a game she wants to play with everything in her.

He releases her wrists but doesn't let go of her neck. His thumb slowly traces her jaw while his hand holds the back of her neck still, keeping her head tilted back and their eyes locked. His other hand slides down, gliding along her spine before settling in her lower back.

His caramel-brown eyes are the darkest. The pupils bleed into the rich brown, swallowing the light like a storm. But beneath the rage, there's a flicker of raw and primal hunger.

Bright and all-consuming.

He blinks as if to clear his head yet he keeps watching her with hooded eyes like she's his next meal.

Fuck. He is obsessed with her or something. Who the fuck reacts like that over a blush?!

Whatever it is, obsession or not, it's like an invisible rope pulling her closer even as she tries to resist.

"What's the deal with you? You like me or something?" Her voice weavers as the words slip past her lips.

"Like?" The corner of his mouth lifts

in a cruel smirk. "Don't know if I'd call it that."

"What would you call it then? Obsession? You're obsessed with me, huh?'' She can't help but goad him, but deep down she is scared, so damn scared.

"Does that scare you?" He asks as if reading her mind.

She gives him a dry look of denial, but her body betrays her. She gulps as heat pools in places it shouldn't.

His smirk deepens, the darkness in his eyes glinting dangerously. A rasp curls through his voice. "Good".

She's hyperaware of everything, the frantic thrum of her heart, the tick of the clock somewhere in the distance, the way his heart is beating too fast against her as if it's beating inside her rib cage.

"You've been in my head, little bird..'' His lips skim the corner of her mouth. "More than you should have been. More than I should have let you. More than your pathetic crush tonight could ever imagine."

Her fingers clutching her dress fabric in an attempt to prevent her from reaching for him when his voice slides over her like velvet and smoke.

"I've thought about you so much..''

The words graze her ear alongside his lips, his hot breaths are as intoxicating as his words. His stubble brushes against her soft skin, leaving behind a trail of ruin and fire.

"So fucking much that...every part of you becomes mine."

Her breathing stops entirely and all she hears mine, mine, mine.

The hell she is!!

She is no one's!!

"He's lucky he didn't touch you,'' he continues, his voice turning razor-sharp. "Because I don't take kindly to people touching what's mine."

Her throat tightens, causing her heart to struggle against her ribcage, trying to get free. "Who touches me is none of your business."

His voice a low, dangerous rumble.

"It's always been my business.''

Anger flares within her, overriding the

heat clouding her judgment. ''I am nobody's business. I don't even like you. Let go of me."

His smirk returns, cruel and devastating. "You don't have to like me to scream my name."

And then his voice drops to a sinful murmur. "You know my name, don't you, little bird?" When she doesn't reply, he taunts her, "Or, have you forgotten yours as well? I have merely touched you. "

Her fists curls at her sides. "Oh, I remember plenty, Mr.Raizada." she seethes, glaring up at him. "But it seems you've forgotten something. You despise me. Remember?''

His eyes ablaze, something primal and wicked lurking beneath the surface, as he leans in.

"That's the thing....I don't just despise you. I also want to rip this little dress of yours right here in the middle of this office.....strip you naked.."

White noise rings in her ear as his words sink in. "And then press you against the glass for the whole city to see."

Voice nothing but a dangerous, sinful whisper, corrupting her mind, creating images.

"While I kiss every square inch of your body..and then pound into you so hard that the people driving below can't look away.....wishing they were us."

The heat in his gaze scorches her, burning her resolve to ashes. Her lips part but no sound escapes as her body frozen in place.

"That'll probably be a bad idea, right?" His smirk grows, self-assured and maddeningly smug.

"Keep dreaming,'' she whispers, tethering at the end of sanity, refusing to give up.

"Oh, I do," His chuckle is dark, and wickedly intimate, tinted with a sardonic edge.

"I fuck you in my dreams every night." The hand on her back dips lower, brushing against her ass, and she stiffens.

"And that's why you're able to stand here...and fight with me...because if I fuck you for real, Little bird," His gaze locks onto hers with the weight of a promise, ''You won't be walking straight for days."

Damn, his mouth. It should be illegal.

Her heart flutters in her chest, a frenzied rhythm she can't control as his face hovers inches from hers. His breath is warm, brushing against her lips, and she feels the pull, the intoxicating inevitability of his lips meeting hers. Her own part slightly, as though inviting him to close the sliver of space between them.

Her eyes drift close. Every nerve in her body goes taut, coiled like a spring on the edge of snapping, trembling with a raw, unspoken need.

And then, the shrill of a ringtone breaks the moment like a glass.

His jaw tightens as he fishes his phone from his pocket.

Aman!!

What the hell!?!

With a growl, he answers. "This better be good. Otherwise, I'll kill you, motherfucker."

Even as he listens to Aman on the other end, his eyes never leave hers.

She can barely hear Aman's muffled voice over the blood rushing in her ears, but whatever Aman says seems to pull him back.

He sighs sharply, swiping a hand through his hair before lowering the phone. For a moment, he doesn't move, just stares at her. Then, without a word, he turns and strides toward the door, pausing just before leaving. "This conversation isn't over."

Her trembling hands rise to press against her flushed cheeks as her lips tingle from the almost kiss that never happened.

"What the hell just happened?" she whispers, the words slipping out like a secret she doesn't want the room to keep.

But the truth shimmering beneath the surface is simplier.

But infinitely more terrifying.

She squeezes her eyes tightly as if that could steady the storm inside, but it's no use because now, there's no going back.

What the fuck will she do now?

The room is quiet, save for the faint hum of the city beyond the glass windows. The chaos of her mind contrasts sharply with the stillness around her.

The air feels heavier as she sits on the edge of the leather couch of his office.

With her body tense.

And her mind racing.

And her foot bare as her heels lay idle on the floor.

She waits.

For him.

She doesn't know why she stays, doesn't want to acknowledge the ache inside her chest and her body demanding that she does.

It's mindlessly foolish and reckless, but she waits anyway.

The desire to resist is drowned by the need to give in.

Her fingers trace the seam of her dress absently, trying to distract herself from the way her heart thunders every time she imagines the sound of his footsteps outside the door. She bites her lip, feeling the heat creep up her cheeks again at the memory of his body so close to hers, the words she can't seem to forget.

And she knows, somehow, some way, he'll know she's here. Just like he knew she blushed for another man. He always knows everything about her, her thoughts, her reactions, as if her soul is laid bare before him. It should terrify her. But today she's lost her perception of sanity and insanity.

The door creaks open, and she straightens instinctively. He stands in the doorway, framed by the dim, golden light spilling from the corridor. For a fleeting moment, she forgets how to breathe.

"Still here." His tone holds no surprise, just the quiet certainty that she didn't leave. That she couldn't.

She rises slowly, her knees trembling slightly. Turning to face him feels impossible. All her life, she has followed rules, lived by them like a creed. But he's the first rule she wants to break without thinking about any consequences.

"You said the conversation wasn't over," she says softly, the words catching slightly in her throat.

He steps into the room, closing the door behind him. The soft click echoes like the snap of a trap closing around its prey.

Tossing his folded coat onto a nearby chair, he moves with unhurried pace, the sleeves of his white shirt already rolled to his elbows. "How do you want to end that conversation?"

Words fail her, as they always do in his presence. But she hopes her eyes speak louder than the silence stretching between them.

She needs him.

The thought is raw, unrelenting, an ache that drowns out reasons, eclipses logic, silencing the warnings in her head..More than water, more than air, she needs him.

And she's done pretending she doesn't.

Even though she doesn't know if she is ready for someone like him. Even though she is scared shitless.

Everything is very new to her. But the yearning to be brave outweighs the fear. She wants to be bold with him, for him, and maybe even for herself.

He studies her as he loosens his tie, with a cruel slowness that unravels her composure. She lowers her gaze, unable to hold the weight of his stare any longer.

He stands behind her and lingers there almost as if offering her an unspoken chance to escape. But before the thought can take root, his hand finds her stomach. Warm, steady.

She sucks in a sharp breath as he draws her back, her spine meeting the solid warmth of his chest.

His touch is a claim and a betrayal of the walls she's tried to keep intact.

Guiding her backwards, he sinks into the chair, drawing her down with him until she's perched on his lap, her back pressed against his front.

Her body tenses briefly before melting into him. Her heart pounds so loudly she's sure he can hear it, but if he does, he says nothing.

"Don't offer your body to me unless you're ready, Little bird," he murmurs, "I don't do the gentleman shit. If we do this, I won't stop...even if you beg me to."

A warning laced with a promise.

"If we do this, if I fuck you, I'll make sure no one else will after me.... Never. Are you ready for that?"

The weight of his words settles over her, demanding an answer she's too terrified yet too eager to give.

"I don't know," she whispers honestly, her voice barely audible. But deep down, she does know. She always has. She'll eagerly let him ruin her for anybody else.

"Hmm...Let's see how far I can go today then. Will you let me taste you?"

Before she can answer his lips descend to her neck, sucking softly at first, then harder, leaving behind a trail of fire that shoots straight between her legs.

His fingers trace slow circles against her stomach while his other hand gathers her hair in his fist, tugging sharply, making her head tilt back.

Her gaze meets his and she sees the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes. It mirrors the ache building inside her, threatening to consume her whole.

"When I ask you a question, you give me an answer." His hold tightens in her hair, further exposing her throat to him, leaving her utterly at his mercy.

She swallows hard, her lips parting to reply, but no words come. Instead, she nods frantically and leans into him. Her hands clutch his thighs like he's the only solid thing in her crumbling world.

And maybe, just maybe, he is.

Her eyes fly open when his rough voice rumbles in her ear, "Are you wet for me, little bird?"

A groan is all the answer he receives but it's enough for him to know what it means.

"You are, aren't you?" he whispers in her ear before taking her earlobe between his teeth and slightly pulling on it. "...you like it when I talk dirty to you, huh?"

"N-No..." she denies softly but neither of them is fooled.

"No need to lie, Bitterheart. You are all innocent on the outside...but inside there's a dirty little girl just waiting to be unleashed." There's no way she'll agree with him. Not verbally, at least. No matter how right she unfortunately knows he is.

"Are you a dirty little girl, Khushi?" He chuckles when, once more, she vainly shakes her head.

"N-No, I'm not..."

"We'll see," he says, causing her to shiver, although she doesn't know if it's because of his words or the way he calls her by her name or the fact that his hands were now trailing down her thighs, barely stopping at the hem of the dress she's wearing. "For now I need an answer...are you wet for me?"

Anger surges through her, as pride battles with the ache in between her legs. A string of curses formed in her head, each one aimed at him but none daring to cross her lips. Instead, she jerks away as humiliation and shame dripping from every part of her.

"Shhh...now be a good girl and let me find out," he orders as he feels her trying to wiggle out of his grip.

She gasps as his hand gathers the hem of her dress, the fabric gliding up her thighs until it pools around her waist.

His fingers find the edge of her black lace panties as he hooks a finger under the delicate fabric, slipping them down her legs.

The heady scent of her arousal fills the room making her head spin. When one of his large hands captures her tiny one, she's too dazed to question it, too consumed to resist.

Her fingers laced with his brush against her soft mound. "Hmm, look how perfect you are..." he says upon discovering her bare sex. But before she can come up with a good retort for him, their fingers slides into her moist slit, and she finds herself unable to think coherently anymore.

Together, they stroke her very drenched, very slick folds. And then without warning, he plunges their intertwined fingers into her core, and they both hear the wet sound of her obvious arousal. Heat rushes to her cheeks. "Yeah, so fucking wet..."

His triumphant tone makes her want to turn around and smack him, but yet again he renders her speechless as he lifts her trembling hand and wraps his lips around her finger, the same one that has been inside her few seconds ago. His tongue swirls around her sensitive skin as he softly sucks on it.

"I should have known you'd taste this perfect as well," his voice a rough rasp, causing a new wave of wetness to gather in her core.

A feral growl rumbles deep in his chest as two of his thick, calloused fingers plunge inside her slick heat.

At the same time.

All the way to the knuckles.

She cries out, her back arching as pleasure explodes through her. She clings to his wrist as her nails digs into his skin. Her body tightens around his fingers like a vice. Her toes curl as a whole-body shudder grips her.

"Look at that?" Her world narrows to his fingers sliding in and out of her core, ruthlessly, mercilessly, while his dark eyes watch her every reaction, every tremor. "...you're so hot inside..," he continues, making her blush ten shades of red before his wickedly satisfied eyes. "My fingers aren't enough for you, are they?" He punctuates each word with a rough thrust of his fingers.

The heat in her core builds to an unbearable peak. She can't answer, not even from a word, not when his fingers press deeper, curling in a way that leaves her trembling, stroking a part of her no one has touched before.

"Too bad you aren't ready, it would have been so much better if it were my cock instead..filling you up, stretching you wide. ''

"Oh..." she moans out as he murmurs the words at her ear. At the same time, he starts to steadily pump his finger in and out of her depths.

The image his words paint ignites something primal in her. Her hips move in time with his hand, chasing the pleasure he so mercilessly teases her with.

She doesn't even care about the incoherent noises that spill out of her. But every time she bucks her hips, he tightens his hold on her hair, warning her without words that he is the one who is in control here.

He's a man who takes what he wants and there's something incredibly erotic and arousing about it.

He's going to take, take and take some more. Meanwhile all she can do is give.

And also, damn him and his filthy mouth for whispering all those dirty shits to her ear. Making her wetter, burning her fiercer.

"You like that word?...Cock..." he whispers lewdly when once more he notices her reaction to his dirty words. "Don't worry, soon, you'll see and feel more of my cock than you could have ever dreamed of..." Another promise and she can't help the shivers that coursed up her spine.

"Oh, God..."

She's never thought those dirty words would sound such devastatingly arousing coming from his mouth, utter in his raspy, deep voice.

"Well, that's not my name, but it'll do for now." He drawls in a sultry voice. His other hand let go of her hair to slide up beneath her dress and cups her breast, his fingers squeezing just enough to make her gasp. His fingers shove the top of her bra and pinch her nipple. "Next time, you'll let my cock spread you open, won't you, little bird?"

She nods helplessly, biting her lip to keep from crying out. His fingers thrust deep once again, sending a shockwave of pleasure through her.

"Of course, you will,'' he chuckles low in her ear, dropping moist kisses down her neck, sucking enough to leave marks, "You are so greedy." His teeth grazing her skin. "I need to hear you say it. Tell me....tell me you need my cock inside you."

Shut that illegal mouth, Raizada.

A flush of heat spreads through her, her

entire body trembling with need. "Please," she manages to gasp, her

voice shaky and desperate as she tries to push her hips up seeking more.

"Tsk, tsk...please what?" His fingers lazily move inside her and she burns. It's not enough. She glares at him for this torture, but all he does is raise an eyebrow at her in a challenge.

"I want it'' she gritts out, the words tumbling out unbidden. "I want your cock.....oh..fuck.."

She can't finish as he rewards her with another deep thrust of his fingers. He chuckles at the sound that comes out of her mouth when his thumb finds her clit, and he starts to work it in sync with the movements of the rest of his fingers. She bites her lip hard enough to draw blood, desperate to hold onto the last shred of her sanity, but it's slipping fast.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice is like molten sin.

He pumps his fingers even faster into her drenched core when her already tight walls pulse around his fingers. She feels herself so close to the edge, she can practically taste it, cringing briefly as she hears the squishing sounds of his fingers moving in and out of her. Considering she is so wet, he has absolutely no trouble whatsoever driving them in and out of her.

But she can't focus on that anymore as a sharp pain rushes though her, only replaced by a mind-numbing pleasure. She realises he's drove in a third finger, stretching her to full capacity.

It becomes impossible to breathe but she forces herself to take it, gasping with each in and out until stars dance behind her eyelids and her world fractures into shards of light, each one brighter than the last.

His mouth sucks into her pulse point and she feels his teeth sink into her skin while she comes undone, groaning out gibberish words.

But even as she trembles in the aftermath, he doesn't stop, his fingers still kept sliding in and out of her.

"Next time, it'll be my cock making you come like this. I'll fuck every boy you ever thought about out of your head..... out of your system until all you remember is my name."

His promise sends another shudder through her. Her body feels foreign as if it doesn't belong to her anymore. It reacts to his every move, every whisper, every flick of his fingers like he's found a hidden language only he knows how to speak.

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined an orgasm would be like that. So consuming, so powerful that she would be on the edge of blacking out.

Maybe because, it was her first.

His fingers slip from her, and the loss makes her whimper. She leans against him as she takes deep, calming breaths until, she hears him moan in satisfaction.

Turning her head slightly to her side to see what is causing him to make such a sound, she can't help gasping in an audible breath when she realizes this shameless man has his finger drenched with her juices in his mouth. His gaze locks onto hers as he licks them clean. "You aren't as experienced as you want me to believe. Was that a first?"

She's too boneless, her body's too limp against him to even respond. So she let him have his moment.

She barely has time to catch her breath before he stands, lifting her as though she weighs nothing. In one fluid motion, he sets her down on the edge of his massive desk.

The cold glass pressing against the heated skin of her ass draws a startled yelp from her lips. Before she can process the sensation, his hands are on her again, spreading her knees wide and positioning her exactly how he wants her.

Her palms are pressed flat against the desk behind her for balance. The action makes her breasts to thrust forward in his face. A deep flush spreads across her cheeks as she finds herself in this wanton position, baring herself to him.

So shamelessly.

So carnally.

So completely.

His fingers graze the inside of her thighs as he settles into the chair before her and drags her even closer to the edge of the desk.

And then he dips his head, licking her from her entrance to her clit. And the world around her dissolves. The growl of satisfaction vibrates through her and she's already fighting an orgasm. He runs a rough hand down her leg pulling her thigh over his shoulder.

She feels a new rush of wetness that he obviously immediately notices. "Look at the mess you've created," he instantly lapped at the new moisture. His hands grip her thighs, holding her open as his tongue flicks against her, teasing, tasting, torturing.

Consumed by overwhelming sensation, she runs a hand into his hair, grabbing a handful and moving her hips at the same time, trying to keep his head still and fixed to where she needs it the most. He removes her hands the first time, but her fingers find his hair again. He lets her hold his hair and control the movement for only a second before he bites at her inner thigh. A sharp gasp escapes her as she jerks back. A jolt of pain radiates from that spot and settles in her already aching core.

His narrowed caremal-browns find her pissed hazels. "Behave."

She shoots him a nasty glare, gatekeeping all the profanities that have his name written on them.

"Go ahead...say it."

So she does.

"You're an insufferable asshole"

The sharp smack in between her legs catches her off guard, but her teeth dig into her lips so hard she's surprised she hasn't drawn any blood, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a whimper, not even a sound.

Fuck!?!

"Anything else?"

She stiffly shakes her head while giving him a withering look.

''Good," he murmurs lazily, going back to sucking at her clit. It still throbs with pain, but the wet heat of his mouth is electrifying, turning her pain into fire.

Mortified at his words and what he is doing to her, she closes her eyes once more and grips the edge of the desk with all her might, promising herself that if she has to endure this, at least she won't reach for him this time or show him just how sinfully incredible it's making her feel.

Another flick of his tongue against her soaked entrance makes her forget all about it anyway, and she feels tears gather behind her eyelids as she forces herself to not cry out her pleasure.

God, he's really good at this and she just knows that it won't take him long to make her fall completely apart once more.

She's proven right just seconds later when she feels his fingers probe into her again and he's now free to go and nibble on her clit. The moment he does, stars burst behind her eyelids and this time, no amount of sheer willpower can stop her from moaning out loud.

"FFUUCK...."

Her eyes roll back in her head as her back arches off the table. Meanwhile he keeps pumping faster, sucking harder, until she can't control herself and is quite shamelessly riding his face with about just as much force as she has been riding his fingers earlier. Soft mewls spill from her lips alongside unintelligible pleas.

"Name," he commands, pulling back just enough to speak, his voice barely penetrates her mind haze. "Say my name."

He growls the words inside her as her body writhes helplessly under his hold, the pressure building so fiercely she feels like she might shatter.

"Say it,"

"Umm.. Mr. Raizada,'' she gasps. Her voice trembles as her hands gripping the desk as if her life depends on it.

A rough hand slides up her stomach squeezing her breast hard enough to draw a startled cry from her lips. In an instant, he's grabbing her throat, yanking her upright so her wide eyes meet his. His eyes are wild and feral, with her arousal glistening on his lips as he speaks through a clenched jaw, "Name."

A tear rolled down her cheek as she's denied her pleasure and she realizes that every part of her burned so much at that instant that it quite literally hurt. Her pride stops her from cursing him audibly though, or even just uttering a word of protest. So she complies.

"Arnav." she spits out even though her voice shakes as his name passes her lips.

His lips curl in satisfaction as he flicks her clit with his finger, her hips rocking involuntarily against him.

"Remember it. After all, It's the name you'll be screaming for the rest of your life."

The moment his hand leaves her neck, he dives back in, his mouth reclaiming her with a ferocity that leaves no room for resistance, no room for doubt.

The urge to touch him is overwhelming, but she knows he'll stop if she dares touch his precious hair again. So, she places one of her hands over his on her thigh, intertwined their fingers together, and, lost in pure, unfiltered and unadulterated lust, tugs at her own hair with the other.

Sparks ignite into an inferno, burning hotter with every stroke, every flick of his tongue. Then she soars higher and higher, until crashing into an eruption of pleasure and pain.

His teeth nip at her clit, causing her walls to contract almost painfully. He finds a secret spot inside that causes her eyes to fly open and then her body convulses in response. He must feel it too, because he hits it again and again. Her ears ring, pulling all sounds underwater as the heat inside her burst. Her body shatters like glass under the weight of a thousand suns.

"Aaaa...arnav," she screams out another orgasm even more powerful than the one she hasn't even really come down from.

His name falls from her lips like a prayer as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her.

He doesn't stop though, his mouth relentless as he pulls every last tremor from her body, his hands keeping her in place when she tries to pull away. Only when she's completely undone does he finally pulls his fingers and his mouth out of her still unbearably pulsating sex and her inside mourns the loss instantly.

Her eyes fluttered open to find his on her. His breathing is uneven and his gaze is filled with something soft yet dark that she isn't sure she wants to understand, but it's enough to make her core spasm some more.

"You taste even better when you're screaming my name.''

She sits there, perched on the edge of his desk, her legs still parted to accommodate him as he stands between them. The air is thick with the aftermath of what just happened.

She can feel the ache between her thighs, a sweet pulsing reminder of how he ravished her. But now, his gaze makes her feel small, vulnerable.

Her fingers fidget with the edge of his tie, the silk cool against her fingertips. She dares not look up, her eyes fixed on the silver of skin peaking from the top opening of his dress shirt.

''Umm.. show me what to do," she murmurs. Her cheeks flush, the embarrassment rushing through her as quickly as the desire to give something back to him, to make him feel the way he made her feel.

Till date she owes him her life.

After tonight she owes him two orgasm as well.

She swears she can feel the smirk tugging at his lips even though she doesn't dare meet his eyes. Then, he surprises her. Instead of teasing or demanding, he presses his lips softly to the side of her head, his hand tugging the fabric of her dress back into place and smoothing her dishevelled hair over her shoulder.

"Go home, Little bird. I don't have time to fuck you tonight. I have people to kill," he says, his voice softer than she expects, a strange tenderness threading through his usual commanding tone.

She would never admit it, but a part of her secretly loves it when he calls her 'Little bird'. The way the words roll off his tongue, equal parts endearment and possession, sends a shiver down her spine every time. It makes her feel small and fierce all at once like she's his to protect and his to cage.

His eyes are alight with mirth when they meet hers, and she's somehow glad she didn't do it tonight. She surely won't want her first time to happen on an office desk. And she's equal part terrified of the fact that he knows her body better than herself.

Slowly, she slides off the desk. Her thighs ache, a sweet soreness that makes her wince slightly as she finds her footing. She almost stumbles, and his hands are there immediately, steadying her.

She reaches out, wrapping her hand in his tie, and does what she has always wanted to do. Tug on it to bring his face closer to her. She doesn't kiss him on the lips as she remembers the words he told her that night. Instead, she places her lips on his cheek, firm enough for her red lipstick to leave a mark.

A silent 'thank you' though for what exactly, she isn't sure.

His touch? His restraint? His care?

Picking up her heels from the floor, she reaches the door, her hand hesitates on the handle. A strange pull makes her turn back, and the sight of him nearly takes her breath away.

He stands there, his hands tucked into his pockets while his tie hangs loose around his neck. The crisp white of his dress shirt is rumpled, so is his hair, tousled from where her fingers have gripped it in desperation.

But it's his eyes that undo her completely. They're dark, yet soft and they're looking at her like she's the most beautiful, most precious thing he's ever seen in his life.

It terrifies her.

She quickly looks away, fumbling with the door before slipping out, her heart hammering in her chest. As she walks down the hallway, her legs still shaky, she tries to make sense of the chaos in her mind...the tenderness, the possession, the hunger, and now, that look.

But she pushes all those thoughts to the back of her mind as she walks away, leaving behind a bold red lipstick mark on his cheek and a black lacy panty abandoned on his office floor.

Author's note:

Happy Holidays everybody.

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@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @chaiandtakkar @bigfatreader @9artsdragon

[myfanficfrenzy]

Arshi FF : Pandora’s Box

Author : Munchy

Status : Completed and available on Munchy’s blog

Genre : Romance, Angst, Tragedy

“Keep reading” for my two cents on the story. Minor spoilers ahead. Warnings at the end of the review.

My first serious caution for this story, this isn’t for the faint of heart. If you like your Arnav and Khushi wrapped up in the comfort and warmth of love, away from any and all kinds of hurt and especially morally grey situations, you should probably skip this one. But if you’re a fan of ethereal writing, imperfect characters and a tear jerking angst fest with a side of passionate Arshi, dive right in.

The story’s tagline is ‘That life is a circle is a myth. It spirals’. And that’s exactly one feels reading the story.

Munchy’s story begins in the 1940s, with British ruled India at the brink of partition. While ASR here is Arnav Singh Raizada, KKG is Khushi Kauser Ghilani, two neighbors about to be swept in a whirlwind. The author paints a stunning visual of Punjab and you will find yourself literally back in time with her words. Arnav is back to his ancestral home after his upbringing in English schools and high society of delhi, while Khushi Ghilani had enjoyed a free reign over all the love Arnav’s family could bestow on their lovely neighbor in their small part of the town.

An unfortunate first meet in a Mango Orchard turns our protagonists sour (of course Arnav and Khushi will fight. Duh uh), but they soon find themselves in the web of undeniable attraction towards each other. And right when they’re dealing with minor issues like the first wave of teenage love and heartbreak, the country goes through one of its darkest periods and their lives are turned upside down overnight.

Pointed out to me once in a discussion and I wholeheartedly agree, one of the things that caught me off guard about this fanfic was the portrayal of impact of partition on day to day life of children. You see the worsening environment from their eyes, when suddenly the families and friends they grew up with are now considered enemies. When they can’t be as carefree as they would have loved with their doting neighbours; because now their different faith comes first. Those chapters had me in a chokehold and I’ve read through them with eyes full of tears. The whole story feels like a ticking time bomb when it begins, and it blows up right in your face. Social practices prevalent at that time will also make you want to puke your insides out.

And over the base of all this anguish and tragedy, Arnav and Khushi are looking to build a life together. It hurts every step of the way, so when the small moments of happiness come along you will soak it all up as a reader.

But fair warning, this is Munchy writing angst. And it will make itself known! Every story that I’ve read from her leaves my heart longing for something more, anger at having fate play a cruel role, and almost clawing my brain out, wishing I can get into those pages and fix the whole world for my beloved pair. But as always, life and Munchy’s stories aren’t fair. They’re however emotional, beautiful and extraordinary!

Warnings- Cheating, Violence, Underage Sex

-I

[dnkkpi]

Khushi and Sacrifice

All different kinds of love were showcased in ipkknd, and often, Khushi's way of loving is interpreted as sacrificial, the kind of devotion that makes her a textbook TV heroine. Because in TV and real life, women are (almost) always expected to go to hell and back for the people they love. Women endure, they suffer in silence—for family, for duty, for the greater cause that is love.

But with Khushi, was her endurance, forgiveness, and selflessness a deliberate choice? Or was it the only way she knew how to love?

Sacrifice is a sign of strength, but in Khushi's case it was tinted with weakness.

She did not sacrifice because she was strong, or because her love was noble and virtuous, it rather comes from a place of obligation.

sacrifice as obligation: I must do this for you.

vs.

sacrifice as deliberation: I choose to do this for you, knowing it will hurt me.

At times, Khushi would stand up for herself when she was being abused by Arnav (resignation scene, guesthouse incident...). But at other times, and especially after something starts to ignite in her heart towards him, her boundaries start to blur. She became more passive in face of the hurt, be it emotional or physical. There’s a tragic beauty in how she absorbs the weight of Arnav’s cruelty—not just out of fear of his threats, but because she believes that’s what loving him might look like. She endured, letting him do whatever he wanted with her, not because she chose to be submissive to him, but because she felt obliged to do so if that's what it took to be with him. Love for her looked different—loving him required complete succumbency. Their love was not an equation, very from from it. The highest form of love, is to forgive; and Khushi was a master at that. She always forgave people she loved, from her own family to Arnav, before they even asked for it—often compeletly without. Take for an instance, the early stages of their first marriage, she looked for answers behind his brutality—why was he tormenting her? what had she done wrong? But I would say she dropped those questions rather quickly. She allowed herself to live with those questions, it came easier than forcing an answer out of him. She had faith in him all along, even with this level of torment he'd put her under, she still trusted that he must have a reason behind all of this. She would rather trust him blindly (even if that trust meant her misery) than pressure him into an answer. Now, I don't know wether the writers of the show chose to ditch the questioning of his actions to highlight her inclination to finding comfort—familiarity in being a victim— his victim; or did they just want to drag the show a bit longer? Maybe both.

Khushi gave without expecting anything in return. Because loving Arnav meant easing his strain— even though he was the one causing hers. She constantly put herself in bad lighting as long as it meant she was protecting him, standing with him, submitting to the version of love she had accepted. This is seen in how she hid the truth behind the marriage from the Raizadas as well as the Guptas, even when the truth came out—when Shyam’s lies were laid bare—she still chose silence over vindication. She knew that Arnav blackmailing her into marrying him, will not be accepted by others. Only she can forgive him for it, silently. And she recieved all the disappointment and anger that came with it (from their families) with an open chest. Never once did she spit his name in blame, because she already chose a side: his.

We don't give Khushi enough credit for what she endured for his love, always putting him first. Khushi NEVER thought about leaving Arnav; only when he asked her to. When he said "Why did you come in my life?Why did I meet you? It is all your fault Khushi." she finally thought, maybe he would be better off without me. She thought about abandoning this relationship, not for herself but for him— not because she had reached her limit, but because she thought he had. Even though, she was the one at most disadvantage throughout all of this. This ties into the idea of obligation vs deliberation.

Her sacrifice was to optimize his well-being, hers was never an option. She didn’t measure what she was giving up, because it didn’t feel like a conscious decision. It came natural, as a reflex, as an imperative attached to loving him.

Her sacrifice was never about asserting love through choice—it was about surviving love through submission.

[chaiandtakkar]

The Case of Ordered Disruption

Arnav Swami was a man of discipline.

A man of order.

A man who firmly believed that leisure was an overrated concept - one peddled by those who failed to appreciate the sanctity of perfectly symmetrical restaurant table arrangements.

He did not engage in frivolities like sports, dance, or (he shuddered) antakshari on road trips. Not because his stamina, agility, or voice was questionable (he would duel anyone who dared suggest such blasphemy), but because he simply had better things to do.

Like ensuring his aloo paratha-to-butter ratio was mathematically flawless.

That is… until she happened.

One fateful afternoon, Khushiji stormed into his dhaba like an action hero, except instead of sunglasses and a slow-motion entry, she was clutching a prehistoric transistor radio in one hand, its six-foot antenna extended so far it nearly took down his newly serviced ceiling fan.

“Swami Ji, LISTEN to this!” she declared, swinging it dangerously close to Bankelal Ji’s head.

Arnav, who had been peacefully ensuring his jalebis were soaking at the optimal syrup saturation level, sighed. “Khushiji, if this is another episode of Shrimaan Shrimati..”

“It’s cricket!” she announced, eyes sparkling with the kind of enthusiasm when she spotted a huge discount on Lifebouy soaps for her guest rooms. “They’re building a new team for the  Ganga Warriors League! And guess what?” 

“You, my dear Swami Ji, are going to the trial.”

Arnav froze. His soul momentarily left his body. 

Cricket? Him? That was about as likely as a dosa rolling itself into a perfect cylinder on the first try.

“Khushiji…” He carefully removed his reading glasses (which, to be clear, had no number but were purely for intimidation purposes).

(Also author’s nod to @Hand-picked-star’s Crimson Shade, Chapter 35.)

 “There are two things I do not do. One: I do not eat at competitor’s dhabas. And two: I do not play sports.”

Khushi gasped, clutching her transistor like it had just been personally insulted. "Swami Ji, that’s exactly what all legends say before they become legends. Haven’t you seen Lagaan?"

Arnav rolled his eyes. "Wasn't that about taxes and colonial oppression?"

Khushi waved him off. "Details. The point is…you have potential."

Arnav folded his arms. "The only thing I have is common sense, which is why I’m going to say this very slowly. I. Do. Not. Play. Cricket."

Khushi’s eyes narrowed.

A slow, mischievous smile curled on her lips.

Dangerous.

"Oh?" she mused, tapping her chin. "I see… So, you're scared."

Arnav’s jaw twitched. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, it makes sense," she continued airily, inspecting her nails. "You’ve built this whole ‘intimidating dhaba owner’ persona, but deep down, maybe you're just…" She trailed off dramatically. "A little… uncoordinated?"

Arnav bristled. "Khushiji, I…"

Khushi, completely unfazed, grabbed his hand and started dragging him out. “Enough said. You’re going.”

“Khushiji, NO”

“Bankelal Ji, secure the pedas! He’s trying to run!”

“ON IT, KUSHIJI!”

And just like that, the most feared dhaba owner in Haridwar found himself hauled to a cricket trial, against his will, like a child being taken for his first polio shot.

The cricket ground was a dusty expanse of regret.

A very short man with an unnervingly squeaky voice stood in the center, wielding a clipboard like it contained state secrets.

“Alright, boys! Step up, step up! My name is…”

He said his name, but it came out so fast and high-pitched that it sounded suspiciously like Squeachin Teller.

Arnav squinted. “What?”

“SQUEACHIN TE—OH NEVER MIND! JUST BAT!”

Khushi elbowed Arnav forward. “Go on, Swami Ji! Show them your hidden talent!”

Arnav had hidden talents. Avoiding human interaction was one of them. Cricket was not.

Nevertheless, he took his stance at the crease. He could do this. He just had to imagine that every ball flying toward him was a Bengali rasogulla.

Except…

He could not do this.

One ball hit his pad, another flew past his ear, and one particularly aggressive one nearly knocked off his reading glasses. 

He really tried but then he swung with the grace of a malfunctioning table fan, missing each one so spectacularly that even the neighborhood halwai selling stale pakoras outside the stadium winced.

The bowler, a lanky fellow with a face that screamed mohalle ka gunda, but very round glasses, was enjoying this way too much.

“Arre bhai, are you trying to play cricket or swat mosquitoes?” he snickered.

Khushi had had enough.

She stepped forward, snatched the bat from Arnav’s hands, and pointed it at Squeachin like a warrior queen ready for Mahabharat 2.0.

“You. Squeaky voice. Get in there.”

Squeachin hesitated. “But…I…”

“Now”

The short man gulped, grabbed the bat from Khushiji and strutted up to face the bowler, clearly confident in his ability to show these amateurs how it was done.

Big mistake.

With the fury of someone personally offended, Khushiji grabbed the ball from the lanky fella, took her position, and hurled it straight at him.

Clean bowled.

The stumps flew. 

The bat dropped. 

Squeachin let out a noise somewhere between a meep and a yelp.

Silence.

Then, from the sidelines, Bankelal Ji erupted in laughter. “Kya baat hai, Khushiji! Arnav bhaiya, maybe YOU should be holding her transistor while SHE plays instead!”

Arnav scowled.

Khushi turned to him, tossing the ball up and catching it effortlessly, looking entirely too smug.

"Swami Ji," she said sweetly, stepping closer, "sometimes, it’s not about catching the rasogulla…"

She let the ball drop, watching it bounce near his feet.

"It’s about making sure no one else even smells it."

For a moment, Arnav Swami forgot how to breathe.

The sun shone behind her, a slight breeze catching the end of her dupatta, and for one horrifying second, he was tempted to close the distance.

Instead, he muttered, dangerously low, "Khushiji, one day, you will regret this."

Khushi grinned. "Looking forward to it, Swami Ji."

And with that, she picked and tossed the ball back to him and sauntered off, her transistor blaring the latest S.P. Balasubramaniam hit in the background, leaving Arnav standing in the middle of the pitch, contemplating a few things:

One, that cricket may actually be the most humiliating sport ever invented.

And two… that if Khushi ever joined the Indian Cricket Team, the rest of the world would just have to deal with it.

And three… that maybe, just maybe…he’d be there, transistor in hand, shouting her name in the stands. Not that he cared. He just didn’t trust Bankelal Ji to keep score properly.

Also on blog here and Wattpad here

[arshifiesta]

13th Anniversary of IPKKND Celebration

Hi phati-sari's, sanka devis, khoon bhari taang (and the occasional laad governer?)! So it's going to be IPKKND's 13th Anniversary on 6th June 2024 & we have decided to host Arshi Fiesta for the entire month ☺️

We will be putting out moodboard prompts for you to create any fan content you like, be it a one-shot, a fan fic, video edits, fan art etc.... it's up to you, really! 😇

We would be delighted for you to engage in this event and show love towards Arnav and Khushi's story in any way possible! ✨

Note: Although, there aren't any age restrictions for submissions, we request you to add community label (mature) wherever necessary!

So gear up for the upcoming week and put on your creative glasses! 🤩 Do not forget to share your content here, we'd love to reblog all submissions (given, of course, that it's been properly credited to us!) 🩷

Regards,

Hosts: @featheredclover @hand-picked-star @phuljari

P.S. We'll be announcing the theme on 6th June! Make sure to follow this blog and turn on the notifications or follow the tag #IPK 13th Anniversary Fiesta

See you soon!

[itsbemighty]

Find Me Here

I have created this ID because watty is acting weird and here you can find me.. Insta is on the way but for now we can chat here so we have some connection - i wont be posting chapters here but atleast we can discuss na.. so here it is Lots of Love Bemighty!

[msbhagirathi]

Word Prompt "Colly wobbles" for the IPK 13th Anniversary Fiesta by @arshifiesta.

Character: Kaveri Khushi Gupta, Arnav Varun a.k.a AV

FF: A River Runs Through It

Author: meera30

Reason: Coz I am in love with this ff right now. Now stop finding reasons and read on.

Khushi didn't know how did he do it. It was freezing cold outside in Detroit and here was the man in question giving out a presentation which he had prepared ~in merely five minutes~ before the meeting had to be started urgently.

Clad in a crisp white shirt rolled up to his forearms, the angry gash visible just as a slip of cut, the jacket and the waistcoat already lying on the chairback. Tie hanging a lil bit loose from its usual place. Shiny charcoal colored trousers hugged his legs like a second skin. Yet, he looked as fresh and energetic as ever.

Illegal.

How can he be so perfect?

Why did I of all people had to fall for him?

She knew that her being physically bulky had nothing to do with who she fell in love with. And yet she felt a bit wretched for having fallen for such a personification of perfection.

Sometimes, she didn't know which one was more comforting? To have been immune from his charm and just keeping to herself in college or having badly fallen for him strong enough to keep away all the strangers she had met just so she could forget that one man. And yet, the 'date other men to forget him' idea was as terrible as it sounded.

As she could go no further then two minutes of looking at them and instantly comparing them to him. She knew she was being horribly desperate. But then anyone would be if the man in question was the subject of discussion...

She started scribbling an insignia (for the umpteenth time) in her notepad which she had used earlier to jot down the good points.

"Ms. Gupta. Its good that you are at least concentrating on something but I would much rather that something to be nothing but this presentation."

Arnav Varun was looking at her with that knowing smile as if he had found a key to a mystery puzzle he was looking for. His glasses gleaming at an angle.

Embarrassed at being in the wrong side, Khushi immediately changed the page and looked up at the projector screen.

"Sorry sir."

Did he know?

Had he seen her drawing his name initials in her notepad with such an interest?

What was with that smile?

And yet now he continued with his presentation as if nothing had happened. Voice unflinching and firm. Emanating an authority. An air of importance.

Hey shivji! Why do I have to be the one target that you are never tired of playing with?

The gravel in his voice still used to send chills down her spine in a good way of course.

"Okay everyone that would be it for now. If I happen to have something else I would be calling all of you back. Please be ready for more impromptu meetings this week. If anyone has any questions please do ask or you're free to leave, thank you for your attention."

Khushi gingerly raised up from her chair praying to let her go to a certain someone sitting in the Kailash parvat with his wife who loved creating sweet troubles for her in situations like these. She quickly wanted to slip away along with the rest of the others.

But, Arnav Varun didn't let that happen. He looked up from his laptop at her.

Please don't tell me to stay back.

Please tell me the one thing I am yearning to hear from you for half a decade now.

Please let me go.

Please stop me and kiss me.

Hey shivji! She might have as well become a lunatic by now.

She was about to leave when..

"Khushi.."

She turned back only to find him sitting at his chair relaxed. All tension and seriousness gone with everyone else from the room. He sipped his glass of chilled water.

There was something in this man that made her feel at peace and nervous at the same time.

"Yes sir."

She heard the sound of her voice which shivered slightly.

Don't get the wrong idea okay? I am DEFINITELY NOT scared of you.

"No 'sir' please, just AV, when we are alone."

"Okay.. AV.'

He smiled.

"Show me your notepad once Khushi."

NO. PLEASE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

'Uhh.. I am in need of it urg-"

"Yeah yeah I know you need it I had seen you noting down points in it. But please I assure you I don't eat paper and I would return it within a few sec. Please?"

Khushi very hesitantly held it out and before he could open it to her eternal mortification and second hand embarrassment, Arjun's name came flashing out on her mobile screen.

A whole wave of relief hit her whole being as she excused herself to pick it up as an important call, leaving behind all her things in the room.

After fifteen minutes when she came back to her cabin she realized she had left all her things in the meeting room. She was about to sprint back to the room. When she spotted her things: her laptop bag, her water bottle and her notepad neatly sitting in the center of her desk.

At lunch break, she entered the cafeteria and already found the whole team along with (of course) AV himself sitting at the corner-most booth. She walked up and sat at the chair two seats away from him. She saw his phone lying on the table.

Suddenly it came alive with a notification and she saw the lock screen. A sprawly drawing. Careless strokes of blue ball point pen. Carved into the paper on a ruled page which seemed familiar.

An insignia, which she had scribbled on her notepad, out of boredom, sitting in the meeting room, a few hours ago. She couldn't believe her eyes.

Heat rushed to her ears and a slow blush crept onto her face and refused to go away. She couldn't believe the fact that Arnav Varun had taken a click of her drawing and set it as the lock screen on his phone.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him check the notification and quickly closed off the screen, checking if anyone else noticed it or not and went back to the conversation going on.

Khushi couldn't pull out the image of her insignia on his phone screen. Her mind kept replaying the image and she couldn't stop herself from blushing. Her body had gone into over-drive. Her heart was fluttering. Her hands and legs felt shaky. Her palms felt clammy. Warmth surrounding her face and neck and the rest of her body. Her stomach was in colly-wobbles.

Hey shivji, please, I must be looking like an idiot. Please help me staaaap this blushing, my cheeks are hurting now. Uff. Stupid AV. Stupid me.

[featheredclover]

September Rain

Chapter Four

Read from the beginning

Also on Wattpad

Chapter Three> < Chapter Five

The sun rays streamed through the canopies, as the trio walked down the pathway to their classes.

“Mona, I thought you were trying out for the band this year?”

“I did ask Jena , but she said I can try out only next year. Why should only 11th and 12th have all the fun?!”

“Seniors rule in Woodsmith “ Khushi shrugged.

Preetika smirked, “Speaking of seniors….”

Khushi frowned as Mona coughed.

“Hey Khushi “ 

“Dhruv! Hi!” Khushi smiled.

“Hi girls”, he smiled.

“Hi Dhruv, we were just talking about how class 11 is not allowing us to do anything fun here!” Mona laughed.

“Ha! My apologies. But you will have to suffer the same fate we had last year. Can’t help it” he charmingly tugged his ear.

“Isn’t the football game today Dhruv?” Preetika chimed in.

“Yes, Preetika..actually I was hoping you guys could come, show us some strength?”

“Why do you even need to ask Dhruv? We always attend these matches” 

Dhruv smiled at Mona.

“Of course, I can always count on you….it’s this madam who has me in knots”

Khushi gasped.

“I told you I would come”

Dhruv laughed.

“I just needed witnesses,” he winked.

The girls laughed.

“All right, I’ll see you all at 5! Wear something green!” 

They looked on as he sprinted off.

“Khushiiii” Mona sang.

“What?” 

Preetika smiled slyly.

“Can’t you guess what Mona is suggesting?”

Her frown deepened.

“Let Arnav be with his upcoming model girlfriend! You have the upcoming school captain in knots for you!”

“What rubbish!”,she dismissed, “Dhruv wants to make sure the teachers see his popularity enough to vouch for him next year”

“Oh yes! And Khushi Gupta, the junior’s presence is going to help him win, right?”

Preetika and Mona laughed.

—————-

Her eyes searched for Arnav as she walked by his seat. 

She felt strange. Till now, her feelings for him were a secret nestled deep in her heart. But now it felt no longer her own. Almost like she had no control over it anymore.

She was distracted from her thoughts brutally as she saw Arnav walk in, Lavanya by his side. 

They seemed to be laughing at something NK was saying.

Aman shook his head, heading straight towards her.

“Khushi, are you going to be there during the dance club auditions?”

“No Aman, sorry I have some other plans”

“Aah okay, never mind I’ll go this time”

“Why so disappointed Aman?” Mona giggled, “No one to meet your nainas with?”

“Very bad pun Mona” Aman grumbled, heading back to his seat.

“Young love is something else” Mona said, oblivious to the burn in Khushi’s heart.

Disappointed, Khushi stood up as Mishra sir entered the class.

Arnav hadn’t even glanced at her once. 

Girlfriend 

Khushi wondered about the term Mona had casually thrown about, looking over at Lavanya, who was surrounded by the best of red house.

It could very well become a reality. Arnav Raizada and Lavanya Kashyap. The power couple. Just like Di and Akash bhaiya were in their time.

——————

“Khushi!”

She scrunched her eyes, biting her lips. She really wanted to avoid Arnav till she moved on. But he was her best friend…..Shit! She really hadn’t thought this through.

She turned around, “Yes Arnav?”

“Stairs, today 5 pm”

“Sorry I have something to do”

“Aman said you don’t have to oversee the dance auditions-“

“I didn’t say anything about the dance auditions, I told you I have something to do” 

“Wh-“

“Arnav!”

Lavanya leaned against the door, calling out from behind him.

“Just a minute Lavanya” ,Arnav frowned.

“Your friend is waiting, go” 

She didn’t wait for his reply and hurried down the stairs.

—————

“Dhruv is just brilliant on the field!” Preetika clapped loudly.

Khushi smiled,” He is an all rounder. Brilliant everywhere!”

“But this is…something else!” Mona said in awe.

The cheers loudened as Dhruv passed the ball deftly to Farhan.

The girls stood up, exclaiming in joy as Farhan scored the winning goal.

“Green house wins! Beating yellow house with 3-0!” The speakers blared.

—————

“Thank you so much Khushi” Dhruv smiled, the mud marring his face, rendering him roguishly handsome.

“You were so good Dhruv! And so were John and Farhan! I think the cup is ours this year” Khushi smiled.

“Not sure about the cup but the boys will definitely score some dates this time”

He smirked glancing over at her friends laughing with some of his teammates.

“I guess they’ll take some time” Khushi bit her lip, glancing at her watch.

“Do you need to go?”

“Yes, I need to work on the debate. Mrs Sengupta wants the draft by Friday so…”

“Oh of course, don’t miss Sengupta’s deadline Gupta. She’ll skin you alive!”

“Shut up!” Khushi laughed “I know she is the least strict teacher here, but I don’t like to disappoint her”

He smiled.

“Of course Khushi, I won’t keep you. See you around?”

“See you around!”

———-

She had barely walked past the football ground, when she felt a strong grip on her hand.

“Who-?” She tensed.

“So this was the thing you were supposed to do”

Arnav’s furious eyes met her bewildered ones.

“Well yes”

“Yes? Since when are you ditching me to be with Dhruv Iyer?!”

“I was not with Dhruv Iyer” she frowned, “I was watching the match”

Arnav’s eyes flared, her words seemingly making him more angry.

“And since when do you watch any match other than the finals?”

“Arnav” Khushi strained, her patience wearing thin.

“Dhruv asked me to support him in his matches. He is a sub captain and if he wants to be elected the captain next year he needs-“

“Oh, I know exactly what he needs!”

“Enough!” 

He froze, stunned at her outburst.

“He is the candidate from my house Arnav. We all were there to support him, just like you are there for Cyrus!”

“Cyrus is my friend. And he is a much better sub captain than Iyer” He crossed his arms.

“And Dhruv is my friend. So yes, I will support him just like you do for Cyrus!”

He ran a hand through his hair aggressively.

“What is the matter with you?” Khushi said exasperated.

“The matter with me is that you blew me off to go watch that idiot’s match” he gritted out.

“I didn’t blow you off Arnav. I told you the truth. It’s not my fault your girlfriend interrupted us!”

He stared at her.

Her heart wailed in despair as he remained silent. Fury made her lose her senses.

“Tell me Arnav, did you take her to the stairs today?”

Her breath left her in a whoop, as he crushed her arms with his hold.

“What did you just say?” 

She swallowed. Her fear flamed, never having seen him so angry .

“You like her, it’s obvious “ she blurted out.

A masochist, that’s what she was. She wanted him to confirm what her mind was prodding her heart to accept and just be done with the agony.

He dropped his hold abruptly.

“Obvious….”, his voice broke.

Her eyes scanned his face nervously.

“Arn-“

“I have to go”

Heartbroken and scared, Khushi shivered as she watched him walk away.

Tagging: @arshifiesta

——————

Next chapter>>

@hand-picked-star @phuljari @msbhagirathi @thenainitaldisaster @thedupattaknowswhatsup @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @barshifan @andli @shiyaravi @chutkiandchotte @laad-governess @minpdnim @bigfatreader @arshiradio @simplycurlz @scorpio-smiles @bengudill @exosexosekai @0218fm

[pyaargulzar]

guidance (pt. 2)

summary: khushi awaits arnav's arrival from the office desperately, craving his presence in one way more than others. arnav uses the opportunity to provide her with some guidance.

genres: romance, angst, smut, fluff-ish

disclaimer: part 2 does in fact contain smut (!) the guidance is in fact provided.

Khushi’s breath hitched, the sound soft but unmistakable—a moan, not a groan. Arnav froze for a moment, his grip tightening around her as the noise sent a spark of heat straight through him. Blood rushed to his manhood instantly, his body reacting before his mind could catch up.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his gaze sweeping over her flushed cheeks, the way her lashes fluttered as she avoided his eyes. She was blushing all over by now, her vulnerability laid bare, and it only made him want her more.

He brought his right hand up to caress her cheek, his touch gentle yet electrifying. The gesture finally prompted her to open her eyes, and the desperation in her gaze made Arnav want to lose all control.

He wanted to take her right here, right now. “Khushi…” he whispered, his breath hot, fanning her face as he moved closer, brushing his lips against hers.

He was feeling so much—too much. He wanted to savor this moment, to etch every detail into his memory. Khushi was opening up to him in a way she never had before, and the trust she was placing in him left him feeling honored and fiercely possessive all at once.

Before he could process it further, she pushed herself against him, kissing him with everything she had. The suddenness of her impatience surprised him, and a low moan escaped his throat as her tongue slipped into his mouth, working against his.

Arnav picked her up effortlessly, and she intrinsically wrapped her legs around him, their kiss unbroken. He carried her to the bed, gently laying her down before pulling back to look at her with hooded eyes, his desire for her burning brighter than ever.

She lay there, her mouth swollen from his kiss, her chest rising and falling as she panted. Her eyes grew dark with lust, mirroring his.

He wanted to tease her for being so needy, so utterly consumed by him, but the other part of him—the primal part—wanted to ravish her.

The former won, for now, as his hands found the waistband of her trousers. In one swift, practiced motion, he slid her pants and panties down, leaving her exposed to his hungry gaze.

Khushi moaned, the cool air hitting her heated folds. Her underwear clung to her for a moment, drawing a thin line of slick that connected to her core.

“Fuuuck,” Arnav groaned, precum beading at his tip at the sight. “How long have you been this wet, Khushi? Look at you—so ready for me.” His hands moved quickly, shrugging off his waistcoat and yanking his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, his breath deepening as he tossed the fabric aside.

Khushi hid her face behind her hands, overwhelmed by the way Arnav was looking at her, his gaze predatory and possessive. It was too all much. Her hole clenched around nothing under his scrutiny, and she brought her thighs together instinctively, trying to ease the ache.

The movement triggered something in Arnav. His hands reached for hers, pulling them away from her face, placing them on his defined torso. “Look at me, Khushi,” he commanded leaning down, his voice low and rough. “Were you like this for me?”

His left hand drifted to her core, spreading her slickness with his index and middle finger, earning another moan from her. “Tell me, Khushi. You don’t have to hold back. You’re my wife—you can ask for me whenever you want.” He paused, a sinister idea forming as he watched her nod innocently, her eyes pleading.

But before he could act on it, Khushi surprised him. Her hand reached for his, fingers curling around his wrist, urging him to continue.

It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. She had never done this before—never taken control, never asked for more than he gave. The realization hit him like a wave, and his heart swelled with pride and desire.

He hesitated for a moment, then pulled his hand away, teasing her. The absence of his touch was unbearable, and a frustrated groan escaped her lips. She squirmed, her body arching toward him, every movement screaming her need.

In a swift motion, Arnav removed his belt, letting his pants and boxers fall to his knees. He never broke eye contact with her, his gaze locked on hers as he stood between her legs.

“Khushi,” he said, his voice low and dripping with mischief, “let me teach you something important today.” He reached for her hand, guiding her fingers to her clit with a deliberate slowness. “Like this,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear as he showed her how to rub herself with just the right pressure.

“Arnav—ahh!” she gasped as pleasure shot through her. But before she could fully lose herself, his hands were gone, leaving her trembling and desperate. Her eyes flew to his, wide with frustration, only to find him smirking down at her, his hand now wrapped around his length, stroking himself slowly.

“You have no idea,” he said, his voice rough and strained, “how many times I’ve had to do this because of you, Khushi.”

She was too far gone to question his words, her mind clouded by lust. The sight of him touching himself was driving her wild, her arousal pooling beneath her.

“Take your kurta off for me, baby,” he coaxed, his free hand gently rubbing her thigh as he stayed hovering between her legs. “I want to see you.” His touch was tender, a contrast to the hunger in his eyes, and it spurred her into action.

She obeyed without hesitation, her movements automatic as she began to undress, her eyes never leaving his. She quickly discarded the last piece of restriction, throwing it to the side with her dupatta.

“Good girl” Arnav breathed out heavily, eyes on her swollen nubs, “fuck, no bra today? you're going to drive me crazy”. It was taking every fiber in his being to not grab her pretty tits, lick them, pinch them, squeeze them—his member twitched at the thought of the soft flesh in his mouth and he moaned.

“Lay down, I'm going to teach you to…mhm....to help yourself when I'm not here”

“What do you mean?” Khushi asked, confused  

“What you've been feeling today, it would be better if you do this, I'm going to teach you how to touch yourself when I'm not here to fuck you”

Khushi gasped at how vile his words sounded, he was still pumping himself, eyes on her as he said the most vulgar thing she's heard “A-Arnav-ji what do you mean?”

Oh, was he back to Arnav-ji now? He cocked one brow up but didn't push his desperate and confused wife. “Spread your legs and listen to me, mh…fuck, yeah just like that” he moaned at the sight of her soft folds back on display, all for him. 

Khushi was being so good, so unbearably perfect, that it took every ounce of his self-control not to lose himself in her completely. The urge to claim her, to fill her until she could think of nothing but him, burned through him like a wildfire. He wanted to erase every thought from her mind, to replace it with nothing but the sensation of him—her body full, her world reduced to the two of them. But he had to wait. He's going to be patient with her, this wasn't about him. 

His grip tightened on himself, his other hand sliding down to her sex. He gently inserted two fingers that were welcomed inside by her arousal, curling them just enough to make Khushi arch her back and throw her head back, a raw, incoherent noise escaping her lips. He pumped his fingers a few more times, drawing out the moans he loved hearing so much—before pulling away, leaving her trembling for more.

Her head snapped up again, now a mix of anger and need flashing in her eyes. “Shhh… I know,” he cooed, his voice low and soothing. “You’ll feel better soon. Just keep your eyes on me.”

He brought his fingers, glistening with her need, to his lips, sucking them slowly. A shared moan escaped them both, the taste of her driving him wild. God, he loved her taste. He loved his wife.

Switching hands, he coated himself fully with any remaining wetness left on his fingers, the slickness making his movements smoother, more urgent. His eyes locked onto hers, his mouth hanging open as he felt himself teetering on the edge.

“Mhm, fuck, Khushi,” he groaned, his voice ragged. With one final stroke, his head fell back, and he came undone. Thick ropes of release spilled from him as he kept pumping, milking every last drop, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

A low moan filled the room—and it wasn’t his. Still riding the waves of his climax, his head snapped toward Khushi. Her eyes were dark and hooded, chest rising and falling, her lips parted as if she couldn’t quite catch her breath. 

The sight of her—completely undone, her cheeks flushed, her body trembling just from watching him—sent a fresh surge of heat through him. She wasn’t just witnessing his pleasure; she was devouring it, her own desire mirroring his in a way that left him wanting more.

Arnav’s eyes darkened as he took in the sight, his seed on her skin, marking her as his. The visual alone was enough to make him hard again. “Your turn now,” he commanded, his voice low and dripping with dominance. “Touch yourself. Show me how much you need it.”

Khushi felt intoxicated, her body moving on its own as she obeyed. Her fingers found her clit, trembling slightly as she began to rub. Her eyes stayed locked on Arnav, watching as he gave himself one last, slow stroke.

“Good,” he growled, his voice heavy with approval. “Just like that Khushi. Don’t stop.”

She began circling her fingers, mimicking what Arnav always did, trying to replicate the rhythm he’d taught her. Her movements were tentative at first, but the memory of his touch guided her.

Arnav’s focus sharpened on her, his gaze heavy and unwavering as he watched her unfold. Her body trembled, her entrance clenching around nothing, a silent plea for the release she desperately needed.

Without a word, he took her other hand, guiding her fingers to where she ached, slipping two inside with a slow, deliberate precision that left her gasping.

Her fingers on her clit stilled for a moment as she gasped at the intrusion, her body trembling. “Keep touching yourself, Khushi,” he urged, his voice calm and steady. “It’ll feel better if you don’t stop.”

Khushi obeyed again, her fingers resuming their rhythm as Arnav helped her pump in and out, his hand steadying hers until she took over completely.

“Mmh—ah… Arnav,” she moaned, her hands moving with growing confidence, driving him wild with every sound that came out of her mouth and body.

“That’s it, good girl,” he soothed, his voice a mix of praise and desire. “Make yourself come for me, Khushi.” He bent down, pressing a gentle kiss to her hip, and she arched into the contact, her body responding instinctively.

“I-I’m clos—unhhh,” she whined, feeling herself reaching a high, her walls fluttering around her fingers. The sheer eroticism of Arnav watching her like this pushed her closer to her peak.

Arnav’s fingers joined hers, pressing down on her clit with deliberate pressure and speed, expertly amplifying her pleasure. “Arnaaaav—ahng,” Khushi cried out as she climaxed, her body trembling, mouth falling open in ecstasy, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

Arnav smirked, a flicker of pride lighting his eyes. Even as Khushi’s hands fell away from her sex, still dazed and breathless, Arnav kept his fingers steady on her clit, gently prolonging her orgasm with practiced precision.

Another strategic win, he thought, watching her head fall back, her body still quivering and arching under his touch.

“Good girl,” he purred, his voice low and approving. “You did so well.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Touch yourself like this whenever you miss me, Khushi.”

Khushi was still coming down from her high, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Am I sick, Arnav?” she asked, her voice shaky. “Why was I like this?”

Arnav waited patiently, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face as her breathing slowly steadied. He bent down, pressing a gentle kiss to her swollen mouth, his lips lingering for a moment as if to reassure her.

“When was your last period?” he asked, his tone calm and measured, his eyes soft but searching.

Khushi hesitated, her brows furrowing. “Why?” she asked, her voice tinged with confusion. But one look at his face made her give in. “around 2 weeks ago,” she replied coyly, looking away.

“No, baby, you’re not sick,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You’re ovulating.” His hand reached for her face as he spoke, bringing her eyes back to him. His touch was warm and reassuring, an attempt to comfort her after this overwhelming experience.

“What’s that?” she asked, her voice a mix of uncertainty and curiosity.

“Well, your body is asking me to give you babies,” he said, his tone playful but laced with tenderness. He wanted her to understand her body, to feel in control of it. Already, his mind raced ahead, planning to get her a tracker to help her learn her cycle better.

“What? How could you say something so…so…ugh,” Khushi stammered, her cheeks flushing an even deeper crimson, pulling Arnav back to the present moment.

He shifted closer, his lips brushing against hers in a tender kiss. Khushi melted into him, her defenses dissolving as she became raw and unguarded again.

“Why don’t I explain your cycle to you in detail after this?” he offered against her lips.

“After what?” Khushi asked, her puzzlement evident as she searched his eyes.

In one fluid motion, Arnav moved down her body, his face hovering just above her core, his hot breath fanning against her. “This,” he drawled, his voice thick with desire, before his mouth descended on her, drinking her in.

Fuck, he had been craving this—her taste, her arousal, the way she responded to him. As he lapped up her sweetness, he couldn’t wait to show her more about anything and everything her heart desired.

author's note: part 2 is heeeereee!! dedicating it to @featheredclover <3 you gave me the push i needed to edit this lol.

i really wanted to show khushi's growth and comfort levels expanding in their relationship, where she, over time, learns to be more honest, knowing that it's finally safe to do so. we could tell as the show progressed that khushi kept concerns to herself and wasn't able to voice them like she wanted to w arnav.

i also wanted to show arnav taking on the role of a provider for her in and out of their bedroom, especially given that she was younger and inexperienced (and i'm like 99.99999% sure he was not a virgin, like c'mon now, be fr). there is a fine line between controlling and guiding, and this was my attempt to explore the latter, as the title suggests.

+ TLDR; i wanted to show khushi learning to be honest and feeling secure in the marriage; arnav helping her navigate and express her needs

+ made a teeny tiny reference to the "it's okayyy, you're my wife, it's your right" dialogue here if you caught it!

[arshiradio]

Babua was struck! ❤️

@arshifiesta

[arshisrabbaves]

IPKKND Memes (Pt.2)

Nani rocked, Arnav shocked 😭

Lmao ASR 😭

Savage Khushi

Lol