"Raw Desi Heat: Ananya's Rough Ride"

Write a smut between Ishan(male )and Ananya (female). Make it raw, desi and rough. Make it detailed

Ishan slammed the door shut behind him, the sound echoing through the dimly lit apartment. Ananya, sprawled on the couch, looked up from her phone, eyes narrowing as she took in his fierce expression. 'What's got you storming in like that?' 'Shut up and come here,' he growled. She raised an eyebrow but complied, standing up and sauntering over. He grabbed her wrist, yanking her close. She gasped as he gripped her hair, tilting her head back to expose her neck. His other hand roughly massaged her breast, thumb and forefinger pinching her nipple through the thin fabric of her kurta. She moaned, grinding her hips against his thigh. He smirked, releasing her hair to lift her kurta, exposing her smooth stomach. His hand slid up her thigh, pushing her salwar aside. He thrust two fingers into her, making her cry out. She was already soaked, her body ready for him. 'You're such a whore, Ananya,' he murmured, his fingers pumping in and out of her. 'Always ready for me.' She glared at him but didn't deny it. He smirked, adding a third finger, stretching her. She panted, her hands gripping his shoulders. He leaned down, biting her neck hard enough to leave a mark. She whimpered, her body shuddering as he fucked her with his fingers. His phone rang, a harsh, insistent tone. Reluctantly he pulled it out, glancing at the screen. A work emergency. He scowled, pulling his fingers out of her. She gasped, her eyes filled with frustration and pent-up desire. 'I have to take this,' he said, his voice rough with need. 'You wait here. Don't you dare fucking touch yourself.' She glared at him but nodded, her chest heaving as she tried to calm her racing heart. He answered the call, his eyes never leaving her as he started to talk, his voice all business now. But the tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with unspent lust.

Ishan's voice was stern, commanding, as he barked instructions into the phone. Ananya watched him, her breath ragged, her body aching with need. She could feel the wetness between her legs, her salwar clinging to her thighs. He ended the call, his eyes dark with lust and irritation. He approached her, his stride predatory. "You're still dressed," he said, his voice a low growl. "Why?" She swallowed hard, her heart pounding. "You told me to wait," she replied, her voice barely above a whimper. He grabbed her kurta, tearing it open with a harsh tug. Buttons scattered across the floor. "I changed my mind," he said, his voice harsh. He pushed her back onto the couch, his hands rough on her skin. "Spread your legs." She complied, her body trembling as he knelt between her thighs. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her salwar, yanking them down roughly. She heard the fabric tear, but she didn't care. She was beyond caring, beyond anything but the raw need coursing through her veins. He leaned down, his breath hot on her ear. "You're a filthy slut, Ananya," he murmured in Hindi. "Always ready to spread your legs for me." She whimpered, her hips bucking against him. He chuckled, a dark sound that sent shivers down her spine. He stood up, unzipping his pants and freeing his cock. It was hard, thick, and glistening with precum. He stroked it, his eyes never leaving hers. "Look at you," he said, his voice a low growl. "So eager, so desperate. You're pathetic, Ananya. A filthy, pathetic slut." She glared at him, but the glare turned into a scream as he thrust into her, hard and deep. He leaned down, his hands on either side of her head, caging her in. He started to fuck her, his hips moving in a brutal, punishing rhythm. She could feel every inch of him, stretching her, filling her. It was rough, it was brutal, but it was exactly what she needed. "Oh god," she moaned, her nails digging into his back. "Say it," he growled, his hips slamming against hers. "Say you're a slut." She hesitated, her body trembling with the effort of holding back her orgasm. He slowed his pace, his hips moving in a torturously slow rhythm. "Say it, Ananya," he repeated, his voice a low growl. "Or I stop." "Ye...yes," she stammered, her body aching with need. "I'm a slut. Your slut." He smiled, a dark, dangerous smile. "That's right," he murmured, his hips moving faster now. "You're my slut, Ananya. My filthy, dirty slut." He reached between them, his fingers finding her clit. He rubbed it, his fingers rough and insistent. She screamed, her body convulsing as her orgasm hit her like a freight train. He groaned, his hips moving faster, his cock throbbing inside her. She could feel him swelling, his body tensing as he neared his own release. With a low groan, he came, his cock pulsing inside her, filling her with his hot, stick cum. He collapsed on top of her, his breath ragged, his body slick with sweat. She lay there, her body boneless, her mind a blur of pleasure and pain. She could feel his cum leaking out of her, dripping onto the couch beneath them. She didn't care. All she could think about was the feel of him inside her, the sound of his voice in her ear, the rough, brutal way he'd fucked her.

Continue this degradation story with more kinks. Add more plot where Ananya teased Ishan with her cleavage and Ishan just loves it

He rolled off her, breathing hard, his eyes never leaving her body. Ananya didn't move, her chest heaving, her skin glistening with sweat. She knew what he wanted, what he craved. She sat up slowly, her body aching deliciously. She reached for the torn remnants of her kurta, using it to wipe the mix of their juices from her thighs. His eyes tracked her every movement, dark and hungry. "He's always ready to fuck me, too," she said, her voice sultry as she leaned forward, giving him a clear view of her cleavage. She cupped her breasts, pushing them together, her fingers tracing the edge of her bra. "Look at these, Ishan. They're yours to play with, to suck, to bite." She pinched her nipples, a soft moan escaping her lips. "They're so sensitive, always aching for your touch." Ishan's breath hitched, his cock stirring again. "You're a tease, Ananya," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "A filthy, cock-teasing whore." She smiled, a slow, seductive curve of her lips. "And you love it," she replied, her voice a purr. "You love it when I tease you, when I make you hard, when I make you want me." She stood up, her body swaying slightly as she walked over to him. She straddled his lap, her breasts pressing against his chest. She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "You want me to ride you, Ishan?" she whispered. "You want me to use your cock, to fuck myself with it?" He groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly. "Yes," he hissed, his body tensing beneath her. "Fuck, yes. Ride me, Ananya. Use my cock. Be my dirty little slut." She sat up, her hands on his shoulders for support. She reached between them, her fingers wrapping around his cock. She guided him to her entrance, rubbing the head against her slick folds. She teased him, her hips moving in small, torturous circles. He groaned, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. She smiled, a wicked, triumphant smile. "You want it, Ishan?" she murmured, her voice a low purr. "You want me to fuck you?" "Yes," he growled, his hands digging into her hips. "Yes, fuck me, Ananya. Fuck me hard." She laughed, a low, sultry sound. And then she impaled herself on him, her body taking him in one swift, brutal motion. They both cried out, their bodies shuddering with the intensity of it. She started to move, her hips rolling, her body riding him with a wild, primal abandon. He groaned, his hands gripping her hips, his body meeting hers thrust for thrust. She could feel him hitting that spot inside her, the one that made her see stars, that made her scream his name. She leaned down, her lips finding his in a brutal, teeth-clashing kiss. She could feel his cock swelling inside her, his body tensing as he neared his release. With a low groan, he came, his cock pulsing inside her, filling her with his hot, sticky cum. She screamed, her body convulsing as her own orgasm hit her, waves of pleasure crashing over her, drowning her in a sea of ecstasy. She collapsed on top of him, her body boneless, her mind a blur of pleasure and pain. She could feel his cum leaking out of her, dripping onto his thighs. She didn't care. All she could think about was the feel of him inside her, the sound of his voice in her ear, the rough, brutal way he'd fucked her. And she knew, she knew that this was only the beginning. That there was so much more to explore, to experience, to enjoy.

Add more scenes with respect to desi household and add sex scenes with lots of degradation and kinks

Ananya smirked, rolling off him, her body glistening with sweat. "Let's clean up, Ishan," she purred, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. "We wouldn't want to leave a mess for the servants to find, would we?" She stood, her legs unsteady, and walked to the small sink in the corner of the room. She wet a cloth, wringing it out before turning back to him. He watched her, his eyes tracking her every move, his cock still semi-hard. "Lie back," she commanded, her voice firm. He complied, his body relaxing into the cushions. She straddled his thighs, the cloth in her hand. She started at his chest, wiping away the sweat and grime, her touch gentle, almost loving. But her words were anything but. "You're such a filthy animal, Ishan," she cooed, her voice a mockery of affection. "Always so eager to fuck, to degrade, to use." She moved the cloth lower, wiping his stomach, his hips, his thighs. She avoided his cock, her touch lingering just out of reach. He groaned, his body tensing beneath her. "Please, Ananya," he begged, his voice hoarse. "Touch me." She smiled, a cruel, satisfied smile. "Begging already, Ishan?" she taunted. "You're pathetic." She tossed the cloth aside, her hands replacing it. She gripped his cock, her fingers tight, her touch rough. He groaned, his hips bucking against her. "Look at you," she sneered, her voice dripping with disgust. "So desperate, so needy. You're a joke, Ishan. A pathetic, weak joke." She leaned down, her breath hot on his ear. "But you know what?" she whispered, her voice a low purr. "I love it. I love how desperate you are for me. I love how weak you are when I touch you. I love how much you need me." She sat up, her hands moving faster, her touch rougher. He groaned, his body tensing, his cock swelling in her hand. She could feel him nearing his release, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. "Come for me, Ishan," she commanded, her voice firm. "Come for me like the pathetic little slut you are." With a low groan, he came, his cock pulsing in her hand, his body shuddering with the force of his release. She smiled, a satisfied, cruel smile, as she watched him, her hand still wrapped around his cock, milking him for every last drop. She stood, her body swaying slightly as she walked to the door. She turned back to him, her eyes dark with lust and triumph. "Clean up, Ishan," she said, her voice cold. "I'll be in the kitchen. I might make some chai. If you're a good boy, maybe I'll let you lick the spoon." She left, closing the door behind her, leaving him alone with his thoughts and his spent cock. She walked to the kitchen, her body still aching with the aftershocks of their encounter. She started the water for the chai, her mind racing with plans, with desires, with needs. She heard him enter the kitchen, his footsteps soft on the tile floor. She didn't turn, her focus on the chai, on the steam rising from the pot. He stood behind her, his breath hot on her neck. "Ananya," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "You're playing with fire." She turned, her eyes meeting his, her expression calm, her voice steady. "And you love it, Ishan. You love the burn. You love the pain. You love everything I give you. Because you're mine. Because you're my pathetic, desperate little slut." She turned back to the chai, her hands steady, her voice soft. "Now, be a good boy and get the sugar. I want my chai sweet. Just like I want you."

Add another scene in some different time frame where Ishan breeds Ananya because he wants Ananya to have pregnant body as he has a fetish for it

Later, under the cloak of night, Ishan's desires took a darker turn. He woke to find Ananya sleeping beside him, her body bathed in the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains. His cock stiffened at the sight of her, but tonight, his lust was laced with a specific craving. He wanted to see her swollen with his child, her body ripe and fertile. The thought alone made his heart pound and his cock leak. He rolled onto his side, his hand tracing the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist. She stirred slightly, a soft murmur escaping her lips, but she didn't wake. He slipped his hand between her legs, his fingers finding her already wet. He smirked, his touch growing more insistent. He wanted to breed her, to fill her with his seed, to watch her body change, to grow with his child. Ananya woke with a gasp, her eyes fluttering open to meet his intense gaze. "Ishan?" she murmured, her voice thick with sleep. But before she could react, he was on top of her, his body pinning hers to the mattress. "Shh," he hushed, his voice a low growl. "I want to fuck you, Ananya. I want to breed you. I want to see you pregnant with my child." He didn't wait for a response, his mouth crashing down on hers, his tongue invading her mouth. He could feel her body responding, her hips arching up to meet his. He growled, his hand gripping her thigh, pulling it up and around his waist. He positioned himself at her entrance, his cock hard and ready. He thrust into her, a deep, possessive stroke that made her cry out. He started to fuck her, his hips moving in a brutal, relentless rhythm. He could feel her body clenching around him, her nails digging into his back. He growled, his body slamming into hers, his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside her. "Fuck, Ishan," she panted, her body writhing beneath him. "You're so deep. You're going to breed me. You're going to fill me with your cum." His words fueled her arousal, her body meeting his thrust for thrust. He could feel his orgasm building, his body tensing, his cock swelling. He wanted to breed her, to mark her as his, to watch her body change because of him. He wanted to use her, to dominate her, to make her his in every way possible. With a final, deep thrust, he came, his cock pulsing, his body shuddering. He felt his cum shooting deep inside her, filling her, breeding her. He collapsed on top of her, his body slick with sweat, his breath ragged. He could feel her heartbeat, steady and strong, beneath his chest. He could feel his cum leaking out of her, a warm, sticky reminder of his possession. He rolled off her, his body still trembling with the aftermath of his orgasm. He looked at her, her body glowing in the moonlight, her eyes dark with lust and satisfaction. He smiled, a cruel, satisfied smile. "Mine," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "All mine. And soon, you'll be carrying my child. Soon, you'll be mine in every way possible." She smirked, her body still aching from his rough possession. "You're a beast, Ishan," she murmured, her voice a soft purr. "A filthy, possessive beast. And I love it." He growled, his hand gripping her chin, his fingers digging into her skin. "Say it, Ananya," he demanded, his voice harsh. "Say you're mine. Say you want my child." She smirked, her eyes meeting his, her voice steady. "I'm yours, Ishan. I want your child. I want to be pregnant with your baby. I want to be yours in every way possible." He released her, his body relaxing, his smile softening. He rolled onto his side, his arm wrapping around her, pulling her close. He could feel her heartbeat, steady and strong, against his chest. He could feel his cum, warm and sticky, between her legs. He could feel his possession, his dominance, his love. And he knew, in that moment, that he had her. Completely and utterly. And he would never let her go.