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#milla gifs rrr
milla984 · 2 years
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Special shoutout to @fangirlshrewt97​ for suggesting the idea!  (insp.)
@rambheemlove, @dumdaradumdaradum, @lil-stark, @budugu, @burningsheepcrown, @iam-siriuslysher-lokid, @stanleykubricks, @ssabriel, @ronnoxandlumoss, @bitchy-bi-trash, @ramcharantitties, @voidsteffy, @nyotamalfoy, @thewinchestergirl1208, @jrntrtitties, @ronaldofandom, @yashuika, @lite-teesko, @stuckyandlarrystuff​
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milla984 · 1 year
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Thank you @fangirlshrewt97 for the request❣️
@rambheemlove, @dumdaradumdaradum, @budugu, @burningsheepcrown, @iam-siriuslysher-lokid, @stanleykubricks, @ssabriel, @ronnoxandlumoss, @bitchy-bi-trash, @voidsteffy, @nyotamalfoy​, @thewinchestergirl1208, @jrntrtitties, @ronaldofandom, @boochhaan, @lite-teesko, @stuckyandlarrystuff, @bromance-minus-the-b, @ladydarkey, @carminavulcana, @kaagazkefool, @vidhurvrika, @meastradeur 
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milla984 · 1 year
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Thank you @fangirlshrewt97 for the request!  [insp.]
@rambheemlove, @dumdaradumdaradum, @budugu, @burningsheepcrown, @iam-siriuslysher-lokid, @stanleykubricks, @ssabriel, @ronnoxandlumoss, @bitchy-bi-trash, @voidsteffy, @nyotamalfoy, @thewinchestergirl1208, @jrntrtitties, @ronaldofandom, @boochhaan, @lite-teesko, @stuckyandlarrystuff, @bromance-minus-the-b, @ladydarkey, @carminavulcana, @kaagazkefool, @vidhurvrika, @jjwolfesworld 
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»—— Gifset Masterlist link in my bio ——«
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milla984 · 1 year
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Thank you @fangirlshrewt97 for the prompt!! 😘
@rambheemlove, @dumdaradumdaradum, @lil-stark, @budugu, @burningsheepcrown, @iam-siriuslysher-lokid, @stanleykubricks, @ssabriel, @ronnoxandlumoss, @bitchy-bi-trash, @ramcharantitties, @voidsteffy, @nyotamalfoy, @thewinchestergirl1208, @jrntrtitties, @ronaldofandom​, @lite-teesko, @stuckyandlarrystuff, @bromance-minus-the-b​ 
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»—— Gifset Masterlist link in my bio ——«
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milla984 · 1 year
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Jr NTR as Komaram Bheem Ramaraju for Bheem - Bheem Intro - RRR
@rambheemlove, @dumdaradumdaradum, @budugu, @burningsheepcrown, @iam-siriuslysher-lokid, @stanleykubricks, @ssabriel, @ronnoxandlumoss, @bitchy-bi-trash, @voidsteffy​, @thewinchestergirl1208, @jrntrtitties, @ronaldofandom, @boochhaan, @fangirlshrewt97, @lite-teesko, @stuckyandlarrystuff, @bromance-minus-the-b, @ladydarkey, @carminavulcana, @kaagazkefool, @vidhurvrika, @astrafangs, @sunray000, @bheemaxrama, @depressedfordestiel
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milla984 · 2 years
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Jr NTR as Komaram Bheem RRR (2022)
@rambheemlove, @dumdaradumdaradum, @lil-stark, @budugu, @burningsheepcrown, @iam-siriuslysher-lokid, @stanleykubricks, @ssabriel, @ronnoxandlumoss, @bitchy-bi-trash, @ramcharantitties, @voidsteffy, @nyotamalfoy, @thewinchestergirl1208, @jrntrtitties​
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»—— Gifset Masterlist link in my bio ——«
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milla984 · 1 year
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Title: RamBheem makeovers
Creator: Milla984
Giftee: @burningsheepcrown
Relationships: RamBheem
@celebrrration Holiday Swap 2022
@rambheemlove, @dumdaradumdaradum, @budugu, @stanleykubricks, @ssabriel, @ronnoxandlumoss, @voidsteffy, @thewinchestergirl1208, @jrntrtitties, @ronaldofandom, @boochhaan, @fangirlshrewt97, @lite-teesko, @stuckyandlarrystuff, @ladydarkey, @carminavulcana, @kaagazkefool, @vidhurvrika, @astrafangs, @sunray000, @bheemaxrama, @depressedfordestiel, @maooyinysparkle
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»—— Gifset Masterlist link in my bio ——«
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milla984 · 1 year
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Like Water For His Fire
Summary: When Ram goes MIA you get nervous... but he's got a very good explanation and you can't really stay mad at him
Pairing: modern AU Ramaraju x fem!reader
Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)
TW/CW: brief mention of anxiety, mentions of marking, kissing, unprotected penetrative sex
Word Count: 2k
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7:56.
The sunset paints the sky orange red and from the bedroom window you can see its reflection on the surface of the nearby lake, as the evening breeze raises silvery ripples on the water. Adjusting the strap of Ram’s tank top on your shoulder you blow a strand of hair off your face then check your phone for what feels like the hundredth time: no texts. Zero missed calls.
“He’s fine, he’s fine,” you repeat under your breath.
You sit on the coverlet and hug his pillow. There’s usually something soothing about putting on his clothes or smelling his perfume - today, however, neither his old top nor the faint traces of his sandalwood and orange peel aftershave on the pillowcase prove to be very effective at keeping your anxiety under control.
You switch to a full alert state when you hear the entry door opening, followed by heavy footsteps. Seconds later Ram stands in front of you looking exhausted, his sleeves rolled up and the first buttons of his shirt undone, and collapses on his side of the bed.
“What happened? Are you okay?” you ask, still a bit nervous.
He nods in silent assent.    
“I tried to call you, why did you turn off your phone?” you ask again and he fumbles in his pocket to hold up the answer, shaped like an intricate spider web of cracks across the black screen.
“I’m getting in the car and this idiot does a swan dive into a puddle,” he explains, “fifteen minutes later I’m stuck in traffic in Madeenaguda. Damn road works!”
It takes a little bit longer than usual for your heart to stop pounding in your stomach and ears. He’s been late in the past but an hour of radio silence forced you to consider all sorts of horrible scenarios, and you need to clear your mind of their negative influence.
“In hindsight… not the best route choice,” he adds, noticing you’re being too quiet. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.”
You shrug: during off-peak hours the NH 65 is the fastest way back, meaning he was trying to come home as soon as he could. And it’s not his fault his phone died on him. “You know me, I worry too much.”
You also care a lot about him, which is why he doesn’t need to hear you live in constant fear of being contacted by the notification officer of his department - a possibility he’s even less likely to discuss than you are.
“Are we good?” he replies, lowering his thick lashes and giving you an innocent doe-eyed stare.
You can see where this is going: the simple thought of it erases all the previous distress and makes you weak at the knees. You throw the pillow at him, practicing your best impression of a seductive pout. “Mister, you’re the Police Guy… why don’t you figure it out?!”
Ram props himself up on one elbow so he can tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. He brushes his thumb across your lower lip, his personal way of telling you he gathered all the evidence that the mere sight of his forearms always lights you up like a neon sign powered by libido. You’re not mad at him - you’re horny for him.
Cheeky bastard.
Needless to say, his shirt has to go; you unfasten the entire row of buttons in a heartbeat and help him take it off. ‘Mouthwatering’ is the word to describe his bare chest, and how on earth does he manage to still look steaming hot after spending a full day at work and a ridiculous amount of time in his car is beyond you.
You nibble on his earlobe before you lick him below the jaw, descending along his Adam’s apple, the muscles of his neck and the dimple between the collarbones. 
You could spend the whole evening teasing his nipples, forced to contain the urge to sink your teeth into his skin because he’s so sensitive he would scream in pain if you bit him; his petite buds harden at the lightest touch so you circle the areolas with the tip of your tongue and suck delicately, twirling a few dark hairs on his navel around your fingers.
“I’m happy you’re here,” you whisper.
His palm caresses your nape, then his mouth reaches yours and you both engage in a playful competition for dominance: now that he’s in your arms you only want to hold him tight and tell him everything’s alright, but he’s impetuous and clings to you as if you’re pure spring water, bound to tame the fire raging inside of him.
There’s no doubt he figured out ages ago the main reason why you wear his clothes or hug his pillow if he’s away: you crave his body, his presence, his weight on top of you, and it isn’t just a matter of lust. He’s not used to be open and vocal about his feelings, nevertheless he’s proven multiple times he’s the kind of man who looks out for the important people in his life and you’re willing to do the same for him; you’ve become each other’s fulfillment of a mutual request for affection and the many positive aspects of your physical relationship are a reflection of a deeper bond.
It’s Ram who wins in the end and traps you under him. He doesn’t bother to take the old tank top off and lifts the hem up to reach your soft belly; once he glides past your mound of Venus you squirm in anticipation, almost hitting him in the chin.
He smirks and you’re tempted to slap the living hell out of him: being so fuckable should be declared illegal.
“Don’t make me kick you for real,” you joke, and Ram smiles again.
Without breaking eye contact he puts both his hands on your hips and rolls down your panties while you lift your tailbone to help him; he pinches your left ankle and lifts your foot, placing your leg on his shoulder.
Reality fades in a blurry ensemble of the last rays of sunset behind the clouds, outside the window, and the hypnotic white noise coming from the a/c unit as you let your fingers run through his hair. Having it ruffled when he’s going down on you is a major turn on for him and you’re dying to please him in return, since you’ve never met another man who was this passionate about the idea of eating you out; he’s also into being praised as a reward for his dedication and you’re happy to oblige, cooing. “You’re so good at this, pandu.”
Ram glances at you, mesmerized. The gentle strokes of his lips grow more and more intense, then he starts to flicker his tongue at such a fast pace that your ragged breath turns into whimpers, to which he replies with low, throaty growls.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he hums, his head still buried between your thighs and his luscious beard, sprinkled with a little gray, rubbing so well on your clit.
You grab a big chunk of his hair at the roots and tug to draw his attention, careful not to hurt him. In your private system of non verbal communication it’s a signal to stop, so he rises to his knees and leans forward for a kiss. You love to taste your ‘sweet nectar’ (as it was referred to in many of the romance novels you read as a teenager) on his mouth; your adult consciousness knows it’s salty, tangy and it’s got a hint of musk to it - still, it’s you and he always enjoys it like you’re a delicious treat.
You also know another part of him is hungry for you, so you make him lay on his back to undo his trousers and pull them down, together with his underwear. He’s hard and impatient, aching to have you wrapped around him. Half of you wants to put you both out of your misery, the other half is determined to take full advantage of your position: you steady yourself on the headboard and straddle him, but first you tuck his leaking cock against his stomach.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” you mumble as you slowly buck your hips, moving up and down his length.
This is plain torture for Ram and he clasps his hands at the old tank top, squeezing like a schoolboy who’s just discovered the amazing, silky roundness of your breasts. He’s adorable when his self-control begins to falter and soon his deep groans make you so wet it hurts.
“Jaanu…” he whines, desperate for release.
Using the headboard to keep your balance you guide him to the right spot before you lower yourself onto him. It’s your turn to fondle his chest and play with the dark trail of fuzz blossoming on his sternum and plunging to his groin; every time you separate you can’t stand to be apart and it’s not long before you grind on him to feel his coarse hair tickle your sensitive skin.
You look at him, his beautiful eyes closed and his teeth biting on his lips. He’s holding you so tight by the waist you’re sure he’ll leave a couple of marks and they’re all signs he’s trying to hold back. “I-I’m–”
“Do it,” you cut him off while you pick up your speed.
Ram throws his head backwards and it’s a sight to behold: his usual, brooding self disappears and all that’s visible on his face is peace and content, even if it lasts for a few seconds. You don’t stop rocking your hips until a familiar warmth flows inside of you, and moments later he wraps his hand around the back of your neck to pull you close.
He lifts his knees to dig his feet into the mattress and starts thrusting, set on a mission to give you one of the best orgasms of your life; he drinks the pure pleasure you’re pouring into his mouth with your loud moans, which he eagerly accepts as an incentive to pound you harder and faster.
“I want to make you come,” he mutters on your lips.
The power he has over you is unexplainable: his voice is what sends you over the edge in the end, gasping for air when a powerful jolt of ecstasy hits you and the tension leaving your body almost causes you to collapse on top of him. In fact you flop on your side, breathless and drained of the energy required to pass for a living and functioning human being; your brain is still engaged in the aftermath of the Big O and the single detail you’re able to process is one of your legs, resting across his lap.
Ram snaps out of the post-coital stupor first, in time to pick his shirt off the floor and help you clean your inner thighs - saving you both the trouble of dealing with a complete mess later. The pensive frown is back and you wipe away the shiny trickle of sweat running down his temple, but he’s so focused on what he’s doing he doesn’t seem to notice. 
Once he’s finished cleaning himself up he fixes his trousers in a hurry throwing the shirt back on the floor to snuggle against you, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders to trace the outline of his muscles using your fingertips.
“Excuse me… what?!” you laugh, since he’s got his face pressed on your bosom and the words come out muffled if he speaks.
“I think I love you, bangaaram,” he repeats, tilting his head up.
Your heart skips a beat.
He looks at you with his brooding expression again, so you find yourself lost in his dark, soulful eyes for the longest instant. Then you cup his face in your hands and rub your nose against his, kissing him so lightly that your touch is like April rain on his mouth.
“I love you too, Ram.”
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@ramcharantitties, @nyotamalfoy, @taylorklaine, @bheemaxrama, @ladydarkey, @astrafangs, @ronaldofandom
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milla984 · 1 year
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Jr NTR as Komaram Bheem Ramaraju for Bheem - Bheem Intro - RRR
@rambheemlove, @dumdaradumdaradum, @budugu, @burningsheepcrown, @iam-siriuslysher-lokid, @stanleykubricks, @ssabriel, @ronnoxandlumoss, @bitchy-bi-trash, @voidsteffy​, @thewinchestergirl1208, @jrntrtitties, @ronaldofandom, @boochhaan, @fangirlshrewt97, @lite-teesko, @stuckyandlarrystuff, @bromance-minus-the-b, @ladydarkey, @carminavulcana, @kaagazkefool, @vidhurvrika, @astrafangs, @sunray000, @bheemaxrama, @depressedfordestiel
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milla984 · 1 year
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The world should have protected you [insp]
Thank you @fangirlshrewt97 for the request!
@rambheemlove, @dumdaradumdaradum, @budugu, @burningsheepcrown, @iam-siriuslysher-lokid, @stanleykubricks, @ssabriel, @ronnoxandlumoss, @bitchy-bi-trash, @voidsteffy, @nyotamalfoy, @thewinchestergirl1208, @jrntrtitties, @ronaldofandom, @boochhaan​, @lite-teesko​, @stuckyandlarrystuff​, @bromance-minus-the-b​, @ladydarkey​, @carminavulcana​, @doodlesofthelastpage​, @vidhurvrika​, @jjwolfesworld​ 
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milla984 · 2 years
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CelebRRRation22 Day 1, Naatu Naatu 
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milla984 · 2 years
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Random RRR moments that live in my head rent-free
part 2 part 3 part 4
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milla984 · 1 year
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Title: Friendship between an erupting volcano and a wild storm, friendship between freewill and destiny, this friendship is between opposites.
Creator: Milla984
Giftee: @carminavulcana
Relationships: RamBheem friendship
@celebrrration Holiday Swap 2022 
@rambheemlove, @dumdaradumdaradum, @budugu, @burningsheepcrown, @stanleykubricks, @ssabriel, @ronnoxandlumoss, @voidsteffy, @thewinchestergirl1208, @jrntrtitties, @ronaldofandom, @boochhaan, @fangirlshrewt97, @lite-teesko, @stuckyandlarrystuff, @ladydarkey, @kaagazkefool, @vidhurvrika, @astrafangs, @sunray000, @bheemaxrama, @depressedfordestiel, @maooyinysparkle
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»—— Gifset Masterlist link in my bio ——«
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milla984 · 1 year
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Jr NTR as Komaram Bheem RRR (2022)
@rambheemlove, @dumdaradumdaradum, @lil-stark, @budugu, @burningsheepcrown, @iam-siriuslysher-lokid, @stanleykubricks, @ssabriel, @ronnoxandlumoss, @bitchy-bi-trash, @voidsteffy, @nyotamalfoy, @thewinchestergirl1208, @jrntrtitties, @ronaldofandom​, @yashuika​, @fangirlshrewt97, @lite-teesko​, @stuckyandlarrystuff​, @bromance-minus-the-b, @ladydarkey​, @carminavulcana​, @doodlesofthelastpage​, @vidhurvrika​
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»—— Gifset Masterlist link in my bio ——«
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milla984 · 11 months
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Just another rainy day
Summary: Reader comes home after a few days away on a work trip and smut ensues. Sort of.
Pairing: modern AU Bheem x fem!reader (but Bheem still has a nose ring)
Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)
TW/CW: kissing, unprotected penetrative sex, mentions of food
Word Count: 2.8k
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You close the front door of the apartment as the noise of the downpour fills the silence with the repetitive tapping of raindrops bouncing off the rooftop. You take off your shoes and socks to leave them at the entrance, besides Bheem’s boots, then you let your bag flop on the floor and toss the keys into the glass bowl at the entrance, producing a loud clink - which should be his cue to stop doing whatever he’s doing to give you a proper welcome back. There’s no answer, though, except for a muffled sound of water splashing in the shower and a delicious aroma coming from the kitchen. 
You hang your coat and scuttle like a mouse across the room to take a peek inside the pot cooling on the stove, lifting the lid to confirm Bheem prepared one of your favorite dishes for dinner. Food is part of his love language, and even if it’s not five-star restaurant quality the simple fact he made it is enough for you to declare all the other biryanis don’t hold a candle to his version.
It takes a moment for you to notice the crumpled mass of fabric lying on the armrest of the couch, in the living room; upon a closer look you realize it’s the nehru jacket you bought him as a birthday present, and a few feet away there’s also one of his shirts. The trail of clothes he left behind points to the hallway and you patiently pick each item up, so you could put them into the hamper. You know he doesn’t expect you to be his maid, since he’s capable of doing his share of household chores, he’s just… Bheem, getting so excited over the little things in life (such as stripping off to have a well-deserved shower at the end of a long day) that you can’t really get mad at him. 
Once you’re done with the laundry basket you walk towards the bathroom and you raise a hand to push the door fully open - that’s when he turns off the faucet, causing you to gawk, speechless: he may be as innocent and impetuous as a child, on occasion, yet you can’t help but stare at the grown man who’s in front of you.
All of him, since his imposing physique takes up half the space in the cabin.
Thanks to the semi-transparent panels you can see he’s tilting his head back to shake the excess water out of his hair and let it roll on his shoulders, down along his spine to his rock-solid ass and thighs. You lick your chops at the thought of the veins climbing up his knee, towards his hip; he could probably choke you with those legs and the fire burning in your core indicates you find the idea inviting. He’s a sweetheart by nature, nevertheless experience taught you his inherent impetuosity leads to interesting results during your most intimate one-on-one sessions.
You jump out of your trousers and toss them behind you, and with only your kurti on you rush to the kitchen to spoon some virgin coconut oil out of the jar and put it in a small bowl. When you go back he’s standing in front of the bed, a towel wrapped around his waist and his muscular calves exposed. 
“Bujji…?” you call him in a soft tone.
“Ammu!!!” he roars, his eyes shining brighter than the stars in the sky. He’s so strong he lifts you up while he greets you. “Are you tired?” he adds, enthusiastically, and doesn’t really give you a chance to reply because he can’t contain the excitement of holding you in his arms. “Hungry?! How was—”
“Kiss me and I’ll tell you all about it,” you cut him off, in the hope that he won’t be tempted to ask more questions. Right now you’re in desperate need of his nose ring pressed against your upper lip, and he obliges.
Kissing Bheem feels like being blessed by a ray of sunshine, warming you up on a cold winter’s morning; his soul is pure as dew glistening on jasmine petals, his embrace is where you wish you could spend eternity.
“I am hungry,” you whisper, “and tired, but I’ve got duties to fulfill.”
He smiles again and nods, kissing you one last time before he sits on the covers; you kneel behind him, using your palms to warm up a moderate amount of coconut until it melts completely. You’ve been dreaming of this for days: you start with a gentle massage on the nape and move up to the crown to distribute the oil on the scalp, then switch to a firmer pressure to play with large chunks of his hair to help him relax.
Calling it ‘a duty’ is a private joke, as far as possible from an old-style, strict interpretation of gender roles within a couple. In fact, you’d never pass up a chance to put your hands all over him and worship every inch of his naked body and it’s definitely a display of desire he’s very fond of.
When you bring your attention to his outer ears, rolling the flexible helices between your thumb and index finger, his head falls backwards and his curls tickle your cheek. You peck him gently on the temple and scoop a larger quantity of coconut oil out of the bowl, repeating the warming process; his hands sneakily reach the hem of your kurti to try and lift it - to no avail, since the back portion of the garment is trapped under your weight.
“Do you want me to stop?” you purr, and his laugh makes something stir in your belly.
No, he doesn’t want you to stop - what comes next is his favorite part.
You start working his shoulders and the pads of your fingers glide on his skin, dampened with the tiny droplets glistening in the dark fuzz he’s never bothered to get rid of; he groans in pleasure and you too enjoy the sensation of his firm muscles being manipulated, the light friction making them even warmer to the touch. They’re so defined you could use his entire back as a living anatomy chart, so you torture your lips in a feeble attempt to suppress the temptation to cover him in bitemarks. After reaching his waist you usually go for a knuckling technique along both sides of his spine in an upward direction, but tonight you have other plans.
Bheem lets out a surprised, short gasp as you tug at one border of the towel around his hips to peel it open. You put your palms flat on his thighs and you slowly stroke back and forth, your chest pressed against his body and the tip of your tongue following a linear path from the base of his neck to the sensitive spot behind his ear. The scent of coconut on his olive complexion drives you insane and you dig your fingers into his flesh; he winces in discomfort, so you release him and use the bed of your nails to graze over the veins you’d be able to find even with your eyes closed. 
He grows impatient soon and grabs your right wrist, dragging it towards his groin; when you’re so close you can perceive his heat you trap his earlobe between your teeth and he whimpers, like a puppy who’s gotten his tail bitten by one of his siblings. You ghost the back of your hands against his ribcage, your chin resting on the crevice created by his collarbone. You look down and the mere sight of his hardening cock hits you so good that the pounding between your legs turns into a wet patch.
“I missed you so much,” you whisper. 
He raises his arm to caress your head and the tattoo on his bicep contracts, sending jolts of pure lust to your brain. “Four days, chinna!”
“Too long,” you declare, resolute, “I want you. I need you...”
In a flash you’re sprawled on the covers, Bheem’s big hands nearly tearing the kurti off of you; he’s propping up on one knee, towering over you to pin your forearms down and rub himself over your panties. You bite your lips again: he’s allowed to do some teasing in return, and you know he likes the idea that spending less than a week apart turned you into a writhing mess, hungry for him. 
His breathing quickly becomes ragged from the fast-paced, rocking motion but the spark in his eyes is absolutely feral. It doesn’t take long before the tension mounting in your lower stomach screams for release, overwhelmed by the bobbing and pressing of his tip on the same, soaked spot. You’re a single step away from begging him to put you out of your misery when he pulls your underwear down. And almost at the same time, the whole room plunges into darkness. 
You both react with different degrees of annoyance - Bheem’s annyoed and somewhat resigned grumble covered by your vocal “No, damn it! Not now!!”
“Welcome home,” he sighs and he plops on his side to avoid crushing you by mistake.
You bang your head on the mattress and whine, as a demonstration the pet name he uses for you sometimes fits perfectly. “I hate when this happens! Hate it!”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Bheem grunts. He stands up and in the blue-ish hue filtering through the windows he walks to the dresser, clearly searching for a pair of briefs in the dedicated drawer.
“Where are you going?” you ask him, perplexed.
He gives you a little frown from over his shoulder. “Uhm, someone should check the—”
“Breaker box?! Like you always do and nothing changes and the power comes back on its own?” you point out, since you have no intention of letting a stupid blackout disrupt your evening.
“It’s just…” he stammers, then he stops mid sentence with the drawer half-open in front of him. 
Finally he turns around, and you see for yourself why he’s got such a mortified expression on his face. The random honking of scooters driving into traffic, in the distance, seem to add a poignant effect to the moment, but you shrug and pat on the sheets.
“I really missed you. Please… stay?”
He rapidly considers the pros and cons of the two scenarios he’s facing and eventually he shrugs as well. Someone else would be in charge of checking the breaker box, for once, so you wait for him to lie at your side; you put your head on his chest, your heart contemplating the power he has over your life. 
There’s so much of him to cuddle that his presence alone makes you feel safe: the worst part about work trips for you is not the consciousness you won’t be returning to the comfort and protection of your apartment for the night - it’s being forced to spend that time alone, in a stranger place without his warmth and considerable weight close to you.
The rain trickles down on the glass and the reflection of the street lamps light paints stripes on his forehead and nose. His body resembles the image of a bear in your mind, so it’s no wonder you often call him that (even though it’s such a special endearment you never use it in public to respect the sacred privacy of your bedroom). Your hand wanders briefly on his sternum, twisting and twirling the fuzziness growing on his pecs; he’s very much used to you doing this whenever you chill out on the couch, watching a movie, and he’s well aware of how good his beard feels when he goes down on you. 
You hug him tighter and envelop his right thigh with yours: the feeling of his coarse hair over your sensitive clit is painfully exquisite, the friction from the grinding movement muffled by the slick texture of your arousal. You’re literally humping the tattoo matching the one on his left bicep and the back of your fingers start brushing over his nipple; Bheem shudders and tenses up, so you wait for another possible indication of uneasiness. He clenches his fist around the messy locks at the base of your neck to offer you his left nipple, instead, and your subtle oral fixation is more than glad to please him. 
You plant butterfly kisses to trace the outline of the areola, alternating between sucking the stiff, tiny bud and blowing warm air on it; you never rush through this stage of foreplay, and he’s a terrible enabler who’s learned to use your weakness to his full advantage. When your fingers leave his chest to trail down to his navel, cupping his reinvigorated erection, he gently yanks your head back to claim your mouth for himself. 
This is without doubt what you’ve been craving all along: your moans roll on his tongue like sweet mango juice, your hearts beat in unison as echoes of an otherworldly dimension of pure intimacy. He then shifts to his side, so that your bodies align perfectly in front of each other; his palm dances on your skin, his skilled fingers unclasping your bra to help you remove it. He’s done waiting and you nod, in a silent confirmation you share the same urgency.
Bheem slips his left forearm under your right knee, lifting your leg up against his chest. He’s got you pinned in an awkward position - your calf resting on his bicep and your forehead touching the bridge of his nose - but it’s the best way to have you ready for him, and you hold your breath as you feel his bulbous tip nudging at your entrance. He’s not fully in control of this new setting, so he hesitates; he slips out as a result and you squirm in pain for a fraction of a second, which prompts him to loosen his grip and kiss your shoulder to make sure you’re alright. 
You smile and let your free hand reach for your folds. This time he holds his breath and you gently guide his head on the right spot, waiting for him to push deeper: a loud moan escapes your throat when he finally does, drunk on the blissful feeling of having him inside of you and the knowledge you belong together. He tries swaying his hips in a rising movement, still figuring out the optimal dynamics, and your lips come closer.
“Bheema…” you mutter, clawing at his muscles.
He growls, a low rumble that reverberates in your ears, and the realization seems to dawn on him: he starts thrusting with his thigh and his pounding gets faster, more confident, a wild exercise in untamed passion. He’d let go of you in an instant if you asked him to, nevertheless you cherish your status as a captive of his powerful hold. Your grip on his skin turns into a primal instinct to further assert your possession rights over him once he sets a frantic pace.
The slapping noise distracts you before you can feel his fingertips kneading your butt cheek: he buries his face in your hair and his last, ferine growl sends him over the edge and he twitches multiple times inside of you while your own climax builds up in response. You throw your head back while a second and third slap land on your ass, your legs shaking and not a single sound from your lips during one of the most intense and satisfying experiences of your life.
You collapse on his chest, panting and laughing with what little breath you’ve got left. There’s a sudden, electric buzz in the air and the lights come back on, as you predicted.
“Are you okay?” he inquires, a tangible trace of confusion in his voice. “Did I do something wrong?”
You snuggle against him to play with the earring adorning his lobe. “I can’t even think straight... you were amazing.”
Bheem blushes and tries to maintain eye contact, but has to look away in the end; he just fucked you into a mind-blowing orgasm, still he’s too embarrassed to talk about it. No amount of words could ever describe or quantify the love you have for him.
“Come on, get up! We must feed you, Pallavi...!” he bellows, back to his usual cheerful self - his smile a beautiful reminder of how falling for him was, indeed, inevitable.
“I know, I’m starving,” you agree, and you retrieve your panties and kurti to swiftly put them on as you get off the bed, “but I’m going to take a long shower, first.”
He nearly throws you off balance when he grabs you by your waist, making you sit on his lap while he stares at you like he’s got a shocking secret to confess.
“I’m so happy you’re back,” he giggles, “three nights without you is definitely where I draw the line.”
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milla984 · 1 year
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Jr NTR as Komaram Bheem Ramaraju for Bheem - Bheem Intro - RRR
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