May 30, 2025
Study
Loading...
seen from China
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
Study
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
He really said "please step on me" and then she did. And honestly? I respect that
The Peace Treaty Bride
(oneshot)
Amarendra Baahubali x Vasumati (oc)
Summary - Mahishmati and Sinhala have been on opposite sides of a bitter conflict for decades. To end hostilities between both the kingdoms, King Simhavarma of Sinhala offers a peace treaty through a marriage alliance between the next King of Mahishmati and Princess of Sinhala. While both kingdoms celebrate peace, Vasumati is stuck in a palace full of suspicious nobles, gossiping maids, a Queen Mother who only sees her as a useful asset and a husband who she thinks is only fulfilling his duty.
[ Disclaimer - This is a fanfiction based on the Indian movie franchise - Bāhubali . All characters mentioned in this fic belong to the makers of the movie except oc. Any resemblance to real life facts is mere coincidence.]
{A/N :- I hope you guys like it. If anyone wishes to not be tagged in non-dhurandhar fics, please let me know through comments or dm.}
words - 5.6k
masterlist
EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LOOK LOOK LOOK LOOK LOOK LOOK LOOK
BAAHUBALI: THE ETERNAL WAR SET TO RELEASE IN 2027!!!!!!!!!!
THIS IS SO HUGE FOR INDIAN ANIMATION BTW . HINDU MYTHOS GETTING ACKNOWLEDGEMENT ON A GLOBAL SCALE???????????? I USE TO PRAYYYYYYYY FOR TIMES LIKE THESE 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾
Are the non Indians watching RRR even aware that this quote from the director exists?? Have they watched Rajamouli's previous works like Magadheera and Baahubali to even realise that the tropes and themes he used for the romantic heterosexual lead couples in those films were given to Ram and Bheem?
DO THEY KNOW THERE WAS AN ON SCREEN MARRIAGE RITUAL PERFORMED????
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Rinanubandhan
(Chapter 1)
A collaboration of @gloriouspurpose01 and @rutvii
Bhallaladeva x Angarakshika! OC
Bhallaladeva x Reader
Dark King! Bhallaladeva x Angarakshika! OC
CEO! Bhallaladeva x Scholar PA! Reader
Warnings: Explicit content, smut, fluff, angsts, hurt/comfort, forbidden lovers, obsession, secret relationships, plotting, social hierarchy, conspiracy, separation, major character deaths, reincarnations, past life visions, teasing, power dynamics, strong female character, destiny
Happy Reading....
Announcement
Chapter 1:
The Lines between Past and Present
The room was locked, the curtains drawn over the large jharokas, blocking out the afternoon sun completely. But through the jhaali-id wall from one corner of the room, the sunlight still found its way inside the room, seeping in through the edges, casting long dull shadows of grey. Tiny specks of dust shone like glitter in the narrow sunlight that peeked through despite the restraints; stubborn, much like his Indu
“Maharaj choriye hame”, she whispered, twisting her arm to get free. She wasn't a weak woman, at least not in the ways her body allowed; she had fought wars and stood in the frontlines of the army, yet found it impossible to break free from his arrest. It wasn't force; it wasn't about how firmly he held her; it was how his touch burned at her skin, how the debarred devotion from him made her want to forget the presages of what was permissible and break - a word of no use for women like her.
She pulled back only to find herself closer to him with another tug, the light tracing the lines of his broad, muscular shoulder. His thick beard scratched at the ink on her collarbone before dragging his lips back up and settling them over the hollow of her throat.
Her breath hitched, hands fisting at the half-unfastened fabric of her saree
“Aaj to naam le lo mera. Is kaksh mein keval humdono hain, aur koi bhi nahi. Mere kan taras gaye hain tumhare in komal hotho se mera naam sunne ke liye, Indu,” he rasped out, his voice almost breaking at how the taste of her and with the ferocity how desperately he wanted her just as his Indu without the constraints and labels of society.
________________________________________________________________
It was supposed to be duty, she reminded herself, but with each slap of his hips against her, her wetness clutched tighter at his length. Her nipples rubbed raw at the sheet; the softness of the silk did nothing to ease the burn at her peaks from the friction. Duty, she reminded herself, but her word only shrank smaller with each passing second to the extent that all she could feel was the ache between her legs, his ample length rammed into her, aiming for the sweet spots that had her toes curling.
To his distaste, she still refused to break; the whimpers from her lips stifled, and she tried to hold the formality of a person who was trying to perform a transaction. With a loud tut, he fastened his pace. She gasped loud and clear, looking back over her shoulder. He drowned in the sight of her flushed, red cheeks, the rhythm of his hips only growing more vigorous,
“ Naam lo mera Indu”, he demanded hoarsely
“ Ahhh, dheere”, she tried to crawl away from the overstimulation that was sending sparks throughout her whole body. He wrapped his heavy, beefy forearm around the whole of her stomach and waist, pressing his glistening chest against her back, letting her feel how fast his heart thrummed at the sight of her.
“Aise nahi manogi na tum”
He grunted in effort to hold back his own impending release, burying himself inside her further and further with short snaps; her body trembled, shaking as the intensity of the knot in her stomach only increased before finally letting go all over him
She finally met his eyes, an unrefined, vehement whisper of his name gracing her lips
“Deva”
________________________________________________________________
Bhalladeva gasped awake from his sleep. His name, her voice calling his name, was still ringing in his ears.
He was sweaty; his heart was beating so fast he could hear it. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. He got up from his bed to wash his face, his steps heavy, carrying the weight of his aching heart. He splashed water on his face and looked at the mirror, his hands gripping the edges of the marble sink. He looked at his reflection; his eyes were darker than usual. His body was running hot from the warmth of the woman in his dreams; his throat was dry. He looked at his hands; these hands were gripping her thighs, soft, pillowy. He could almost smell her, feel her; it was so real, yet so far removed from reality. The way the woman called him felt like a weight of centuries; he wanted to be close to her, but he knew nothing of her beyond the dreams.
The same woman in the dream again. He had started seeing those since he was around 16; it was rare then, but with age, their frequency had increased, and each time they left him aching for the presence of her. Each time, her touch felt more and more real; her warmth, her smell enveloped him even after he woke up. The most agony was felt by his heart, the hollowness present. How was it even possible to miss her presence even though he had never met her? She was a dream; he had tried to reason all his teens and early twenties. Now he had accepted it as a part of him. It gave him peace, but there was still no comfort in the hollow of his chest. The undying love and passion he felt for this supposed fragment of his imagination was greater than what he had ever felt for any real woman; he realised that it was a problem. He had tried to overcome it, but alas, the mysteries of the heart are often not understood by the mind.
He moved to the attached study from his bedroom, sat in front of the empty canvas, and put on his glasses. He took up his brushes and started painting her, again, as much as he could from whatever he could recall. It was his habit now. He wanted to cling to the remnants of her by painting whatever he recalled; because as the day proceeded, he lost her image, her feeling, her warmth. It was painful for him. He moved his brushes again, adding stroke after stroke. She was slowly taking form in his painting, draped in a translucent blue sheet, her back visible, and there was a prominent scar, a deep cut that ran from below her left clavicle to her mid-back; it looked so much like a battle wound, a cut from a sword.
She curved her neck in a particular fashion, littered with purple bruises of passion. She was partially facing him, her soft, heavy chest peeking from the sheet, which attempted to cover her; what was new was a small sigil tattooed on her collarbone. The vision again made his heart beat faster. His eyes had turned a little moist; he missed her. He wanted to cry out her name, maybe weep in her arms, but where was she in this solitary world he lived in? His grip on the brush loosened as he let out a breath.
For years, he started collecting the memories of his dream and adding them to his paintings. Painting was not his hobby; it was his desperate attempt to recreate the one who tormented him, who made his heart beat, who was ever so present without being present. This time he remembered this mark on her collarbone, but again her face was blurry. He knew he had seen her face in the dream, kissed her lips, traced her eyes with his fingers, but the moment he opened his eyes, her face was lost, just like her presence, leaving him aching and restless. It was pure agony; Mahadev did love troubling him.
“Aaj kya phir se 4 baje uth gaye bhai?” His very irritating, too bright brother Mahendra Baahubali said, his voice dripping with so much sweetness and taunting care that Bhalla felt his blood pressure rising already.
“Apna mu bandh rakh aur mujhe exercise karne de.” Bhalla continued lifting the dumbbells in the private gym area of his wing in their mansion.
Baahu moved closer, with the unveiled intention of getting on his nerves, “Bhai, itne weights uthake kya karoge yaar. Already apki body would-be CEO ka kaam aur Medieval commander jaisa ban gaya hai. Kis jang ki tayyari karte ko kya pata?”
Baahu commented, even though he himself had a very similar build, but Bhalla looked bigger compared.
He finally put the weights down, gave him the most offensive side eye and said,
“Tujhe kuch kaam hain ye bas baatein banana hain?”
“Maa apko bula rahi hai. She probably has got news of your latest terror show in the boardroom.”
Baahu smirked; their mother was the only person who could put his older brother in line. It would be so much fun seeing him get schooled; it was Baahu’s favourite pastime.
“Fuck.”
“Yes, Maa, did you call me?”
Bhalla finally, after a shower and a change of clothes, went to the dining hall, where Sivagami sat at the head of the table, her position as the matriarch clear.
“Mr Bhallaladeva, what the hell did you do?”
Oh no, she was angry. Bhalla had a long schooling session coming.
“Maa, stop with the name, please. Just Bhalla ya Dev bolo na.”
Nothing irritated Bhalla more than being addressed by his full name, that too by his mother. Who even gives such names in modern days? It was like he was some sort of an ancient king, but his mother wanted to keep their ‘royal lineage’ alive.
“Right, maa. Bhallaladeva koi name hain, it sounds like an evil king. Aap ne sahi nahi kiya mere bhai ke sath. Bechara is just trying to live up to his powerful name. Right bhai?” Baahu has arrived at the perfect time to witness his brother getting scolded.
“Baahu, shut up. I am speaking to your brother.” Okay, that was the cue; their mother was surely furious.
“Maa, I did nothing wrong. They clearly were stealing money and were cheats; none of them does their work properly, and the creative team head clearly stole the idea from one of the interns. What do you expect me to do?”
Bhalla answered as calmly as possible. He had one rule: efficiency, and these blockheads were clearly inefficient and, worse, even cheats. Moreover, Bhalla already had a bad day; he had fired his PA a few days back, workload was high, and these incompetent fools brought third-grade work to him and expected it to be approved. Moreover, the creative head did not even have any idea of the project she was talking about; it was clearly some competent person’s work she was stealing.
“That does not mean you can publicly curse the Accounts department and throw the files at them. There is something called public decorum; there was a lady present; you almost threw the files at her face. She was terrified. Also, you cannot fire the creative head without notice; we have to follow the guidelines; it's not a monarchy, son.”
Sivagami knew the situation, but it did not give her son an excuse to show such violent reactions. He was to be CEO, and it was expected that he was level-headed about things. He needed to work as a team, and if he continued this way, the staff would run off already.
“To hell with the rules, Mother. You know I hate insufficient people. We can clearly hire better, more competent staff.” Bhalla seriously hoped it was a monarchy so he could fire all these incompetent asses with no HR rules and stuff.
“You plan to be the CEO, right? This is how you act? This is how you deal with people? You terrify them; how can you expect them to respect you, to love you?”
“Maa, you know I care only for efficiency in the business.”
“And now you are going for an argument with me?”
Bhalla knew he had to draw the line here; he could not upset his mother; it would be dangerous. Also, he respected her a lot, so apologising seemed a better way out. “I am sorry, Maa. I lost my temper. I cannot see the company in this condition. I will keep it in mind.”
“This is the eleventh time you are saying this, Bhalla.”
“I will remember this. Just this time, let's hire more competent people.”
They finally sat for breakfast; Baahu was almost halfway done.
Baahu and Bhalla took the lift to their floor. Baahu was looking at the schedule and commented, “Bhai, aaj naye PA ke liye interview hain.”
“I remember.”
“Please stay calm.”
“I am calm.”
Baahu gave Bhalla a side eye. His brother was anything but calm.
“How do I even cover this yaar?”
She tried her best to cover her strange-looking birthmark so that it did not show from her kurti.
“Behen birthmark hain. Usme kya hai?”Her roommate, Revati, replied.
“I hate the unwanted questions it brings. Moreover, aaj interview hain yaar.”
She hated being asked about it. She was all about body positivity, but the birthmark made her feel weird; every time someone asked about it, it made her uncomfortable. Well, it looked more like a bad tattoo than a birthmark. It was almost like a snake wrapped around a sword, but blurry and unfinished.
“Tu to wahan intern thi phir?” Revati asked, putting a layer of concealer on the visible portion of her mark.
“Aree, the CEO, oops would-be CEO, fired his PA last week, to woh post vacant hain to maine apply kar diya. Masters ke sath karlungi yaar, and it pays better than the internship. Waise bhi woh badmash creative head, Chipkali kahiki, mera sara idea churake apna kehke pitch ki. Kitni nihaiti besharam hain yaar.”
She looked into the mirror, and Revati did her magic; the mark vanished. “Tere hath mein to jaadu hain”
“Makkhan lagane ki ki zaroorat nahi, tu agar bhul gai hain to main professional makeup artist hu.”
“Thank you, babe. I know tu super talented hain. Aur kuch log bina talent ke dusre ka bhi credit kha lete hain.”
“Kya karegi behen, kuch log hote hi aise hain. Tu tension maat le, you will get a better offer, tu koi kam talented hain? Per woh Mr Bhalla thora ajeeb sa nahi hain? Tu to tantrum wale ogo ko seh nahi pati.” Revati was curious.
“Aree mujhe kya pata kaisa hai, gusse wala hai ye pata hai. Maine ajtak photos ke alawa dekha kaha hain? Woh admi top floor pe baithta hai, woh bhi restricted area. Aur tantrum, woh main dekh lungi. Maine suna hai, he just wants efficient people. Aur efficiency mein mujhe kisika baap nahi hara sakta.”
She looked at the mirror, placing a small black bindi on her forehead.
“Hain meri raat raat bhar jagke assignment karne wali mata.” Revati teased her.
“Aree, par time pe submit to kar deti thi. Aur bol aj tak ek bhi kaam bolke miss kia hain maine? Har problem solve kardeti hu main.” She smiled at Revati cheekily after checking her appearance in the mirror for the last time.
“Hain woh to hain. Chal, all the best.”
“Thank you, meri baby girl.” She took her tote and quickly folded her hands in front of the small picture of Mahadeva, whispering a soft prayer, and finally left for her interview. What she did not know was what destiny had planned for her.
Tagging my baddies: @lutt-le-gaya @nevereversaygoodbye @hamzakamehroomkurta @mainyahaankyunhoon @precioussophia @aoyamaj3711 @angelicyuna @torumii @sarcastic-ravenpuff @cvclee @miraclejin1204 @diyak11 @sunf1over @hereforfanfictionsfr @tobitoooo @cherryyelixir @saniisinsane @mrgrungusthefrog @sinnoire @opheliasreblog @mujhekoimarsbhejdo @goldenharrysworld @gulaabjamun08 @idonthavechatpateusernamed @rutvii @rhopalocera23 @goldenharrysworld @y0uneversawmehere @ooopssssu @vaari-javaan @royaldreamermonsoon @hajmola-vs-aamchaska @ishq-e-rehman @khoonaurkhanjar @cloudyparadoxqueen @main-apni-favorite-nahi-hoon @prettylady2006 @theanonymousweeb2010
(In case any of you guys wanna be added or removed, please tell me in the comments)
For my other fics: My Masterlist
Twisted Wonderland gives us all the Rook Hunt we want to see.。。。。。
BTW, I am a big fan of Baahubali.
Will this wish come true?
Mix Baahubali with rookvil😆 that's what I've been saying for the past 4 years‼️
⬇️⬇️⬇️
