#desi novel

[ahamasmiyodhah]

𝐀𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐦

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇; when two star crossed lovers are reborn to unite, whole universe comes to bring them together.

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁: Rudra's viewpoint |

𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐊𝐀 𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐃𝐇𝐘𝐀𝐘; “I'm not doing this to claim him. I'm doing this because I'm his.”

𝐑𝐔𝐃𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐀𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈; “Love isn't claiming your ownership on someone, it's surrendering oneself to that person and is a promise to love, cherish, respect and be with that person on every step of life.”

He felt restless.

He didn't knew why.

His heart was somewhere else.

But he didn't knew why.

His feet carried away on it's own, his hazel eyes unfocused, hands deep into his jeans' pocket. His mind jumbled up with the loud thoughts of why is it happening?

Suddenly, his feet halted at the beautiful melody which invaded his ears. Whipping his head around, he realized that he was at the banks of Ganga, and the water with the melody immediately calmed his mind but piqued an interest. Who was this?

Following the sound of the tune, his feet carried him to a wall, where on the top podium a Girl was dancing. Dressed in a pain white chikankari Kurta and leggings, her feet were wrapped up by the Ghunghroos of a Dancer, and the chiming of Bells was rhyming with the song coming out of her phone.

Unaware of the listener, the girl kept dancing and her thick wavy hairs flew with wind, and as if the wind changed it's tide according to the melody, it started blowing a little harshly as she hit the high note, removing all the hairs of her face, and he was starstruck by the women sat there.

The small red dot on her forehead looked more brightened over her fair face, and those kohl coloured eyes? They were definitely like that of a doe. So beautiful, yet so dangerous.

Ambika couldn't blink.

It was as if she couldn't hear the bells, the sound of drums and conches, the chant in the name of holy river Ganga, or the very thundering claps of the devotees. She forgot how to breath.

She forgot everything, the moment her eyes clashed with his.

Illuminated by the pious fire of camphor, holding the aarti in his hands, wearing off yellow Dhoti with golden work at the border, and his broad forehead painted with three white lines and a small vermilion circle in between, his eyes glimmered with complete devotion as he sang the hymn and rotated the holy fire.

Ambika couldn't believe what she was seeing, the distant sound of the Shankhanaad making her chest rising up and down rapidly as tears blurred her eyes. Her senses were overwhelmed as she suddenly turned and pushed Maatangi, Debadrita and Ruchika away, and ran away as she ignored their calls, her blurry eyes somehow seeing the busy path as she tried to block the loud sound and flashes in her mind away.

@vishnavishivaa @mahi-wayy @yehsahihai @xxdritaxx @houseofbreadpakoda @ramayantika @voidsteffy @warnermeadowsgirl @stxrrynxghts @mayakimayahai @krsnaradhika @chaliyaaa @celestesinsight @sambaridli @desigurlie @hum-suffer @sanskari-kanya @zeherili-ankhein @krsnaradhika @thegleamingmoon @ulaganayagi @voidsteffy @krishna-sangini @nidhi-writes @kaal-naagin @thecrazyinktrovert @sada-siva-sanyaasi

[melancholic-prose]

Current WIP....

Details

[manincaffeine]

l want to throw you against a wall, wrap your legs around my waist and kiss you. Kiss you until we have to stop to catch our breaths. I want you and only you. I want to take you on road trips that lead us to pulling over on the side of the road because we can't keep our hands off each other. I want you and your flaws. I want your messy makeup from teary eyes as I hold you and talk to you about life. I want the 3am phone calls because you can't sleep at night. I want to be yours and only yours. I want to taste all your cooking, even if it's not good, even if it's experimenting I'd have you cook every meal for the rest of my life. I want you. I want my trembling hands to grab your waist and dance with you in the middle of an empty room. I want to struggle on days when I can't see you. I want to fight about meaningless stuff that will lead to meaningful sex. I want you. I want your hand to rest on my forearm as we enter a party, so I can reassure you that you are safe with me. I want to sing to you in the shower and have you shut me up with kisses because we both know I'm no singer. I want the ups and downs, the winter and summer days. I want you and only you.

[ariasmontage]

something for the mind, something for the body

[tuta-hua-saaz]

Somebody said Chetan Bhagat is the Colleen Hoover of India and I have never agreed with something more

[maihonhassan]

Everyone says;

"Tum khulay baalon main achi lagti ho"

But Haram Orebi says;

"Tum baal bandh lou, main baar baar apni baat bhool raha hoon."

[qalbofnight]

[mehvishhh1]

"Hum marne wale ke liye thodi rote hain. Marne wale ke liye koi bhi nahi rota. Hum sab to apne nuqsan pe rote hain. Hamara gham to bas yehi hota hai ke `'woh humein akela chor kar chala gaya.''

- Jannat ke Pattey

[aahanna]

A DESI- GIRL URGE TO READ THESE I INCREDIBLE NOVELS

[urlocalbone]

When your school booklist is crazily classical and this is just 1/7th of it

[mycomfortspace]

"Yeh Dunya humein apni maa ki nazar se nahi dekhti"

- Parizaad.

[swarmingducks]

Introducing Krishnapriya and Arangan!

. . .

They’re both main protagonists in my upcoming series, “Of Eyes & Embers” and they’re besties.

Arangan (the guy)

Krishnapriya’s personal guard in Tamil Nadu and, eventually, Rajasthan.

He was born as the son of a blacksmith, but a captain who was frustrated with his own pupils at the time, recognized talent in Arangan and secretly changed his identity to be a kshatriya/warrior born—something incredibly dangerous at the time. He became a really skilled warrior and became Krishas guard at 19.

He was sent away from home with Krisha when she was married off, because he became a bit too obsessive in protecting Krisha’s father aka the lord of the estate, and the lord was uncomfortable ;-; man just had a crush leave him alone—

Krishnapriya Devi

She lost use of her legs from an “accident” when she was 12 years old and went from being the favorite daughter to a ghost in her own home.

Nobody would touch her for months, years even. Maids would avoid her and maintain distance (This is the 1700s) and this made Krisha gain an unhealthy relationship with control and independence.

She was married off to a thakur (governor) in “faraway lands” because her father saw her as the most dispensable child, (wrongfully so). But she did not expect to actually find companionship and even love in a desert.

I have more information on both of them. If you’d like more details, please don’t hesitate to let me know!

[melancholic-prose]

Hey! This is like my.....third or fourth? Time back on Tumblr so I'll make it short. Feel free to interact anytime nd also I'll be sharing a little about my current WIP on this blog so stay tuned!

[manincaffeine]

Tempting the Storm

The monsoon raged outside their Pune apartment, rain hammering against the windows, wind howling like a beast demanding to be let in. But inside, the air was thick with a different kind of storm. One that had been brewing all evening, fed by stolen glances, teasing smirks, and the undeniable tension crackling between them.

Aarav leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, his dark eyes drinking her in. He had always admired her, but tonight, something about her was utterly intoxicating. Maybe it was the way her loose, thin kurti clung to her curves, the fabric barely containing the sinful beauty beneath. Maybe it was the way her long, wavy hair cascaded down her back, damp from the humidity, begging for his fingers to tangle in it.

Or maybe it was just her. His ruin, his obsession.

"Baby, you look so dangerously sexy, like a storm I’d let destroy me," he murmured, his voice deep, thick with desire.

Ira smirked, leaning against the counter, taking a slow sip of her wine. Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief, her full lips curling into a smile that promised trouble. "And what if I do?"

Aarav moved closer, his hand reaching out, fingers grazing her waist before gripping the curve of her hip. "Then ruin me," he whispered, pressing himself against her, feeling the heat of her body seep into his. "Wreck me. Own me. I’ll worship every inch of you and still come crawling back for more."

Ira’s laughter was soft, but there was something wicked in her gaze. She placed her wine glass on the counter, her hands sliding up his chest, nails teasing the fabric of his t-shirt before slipping underneath. She loved how solid he felt under her touch, how his muscles tensed when she dragged her fingers down his torso.

"You always do," she murmured, pulling him closer until their lips were just a breath apart.

Aarav couldn’t take it anymore. He cupped her face, tilting her chin up before capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss. It started gentle, teasing, but the moment Ira’s hands slipped into his hair, tugging slightly, he lost control. His grip tightened on her hips as he lifted her onto the counter, pressing himself between her legs.

Ira gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to explore deeper, his tongue tangling with hers, his kisses growing more desperate, more consuming. His hands roamed up her sides, sliding under her kurti, fingers tracing the soft, warm skin he worshipped. When his palms finally found her breasts, a deep groan rumbled from his chest.

"Fuck, baby… these tits," he breathed, pulling back just enough to look at her, eyes filled with pure hunger. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, feeling them harden beneath his touch. "You drive me insane."

Ira arched into him, gasping softly. "Then do something about it," she challenged, voice laced with need.

Aarav didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed her kurti up, exposing her bare skin to his eager mouth. His lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, before finally claiming her breasts with an almost reverent hunger. His tongue flicked over her nipple, his hand kneading the other, and Ira moaned, fingers tightening in his hair.

"Aarav…" she breathed, tilting her head back, surrendering to the waves of pleasure he sent through her.

He groaned against her skin, loving the way she melted under his touch. He sucked, licked, teased—completely lost in her softness, in the way she responded to him so beautifully. His other hand gripped her thigh, pulling her closer, his hardness pressing against her in a way that made them both shiver with anticipation.

Ira tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel more of him, to have his skin against hers. Aarav pulled back just long enough to yank it over his head before capturing her lips again, the heat between them burning brighter, hotter, impossible to control.

The storm outside roared, but it was nothing compared to the one between them.

Tonight, there was no escape. No mercy.

Only love, worship, and surrender.

[ariasmontage]

i bought a new tea cup set and it has made me giddy with happiness.

[aasshleyyyyyy]

People are writing absolute crap in the name of dark romance these days. Like what do you even think dark romance means? Have you ever read any? These dipshits are writing the most vulgar, sadistic and atrociously crude....things( I won't even call them books or novels because they honestly don't deserve the title) in the name of dark romance.