Mahnoor never imagined that the man her family would choose for her nikah would be none other than her strict university professor-Dr. Ahad Zayn. When circumstances force them into an arranged marriage due to a family promise, both struggle to adjust to this forced companionship. Ahad is bound by duty but distances himself emotionally due to a dark past. Mahnoor, trapped between cultural expectations and her growing feelings, must decide whether to suppress her emotions or fight for a place in his guarded heart. As secrets unravel and hearts soften, a love story begins to bloom-one full of longing glances, quiet sacrifices, painful misunderstandings, and intense chemistry.

Set in the culturally rich and traditional backdrop of Pakistan, Hania Zafar Ali and Zafar Sherkhan Ali were more than just cousins-they were destined for each other. Born into the same sprawling household, they grew up together, sharing not just rooms and memories, but the unspoken knowledge that one day, they would be husband and wife. In a family where marriages often intertwine relatives to preserve ties and legacies, Hania and Zafar's union was decided at their births. Hania, the youngest and most cherished daughter, is gentle and shy, shielded by her overprotective elder brother Kaif. Zafar, on the other hand, is fiery, headstrong, and possessive-traits that both attract and intimidate Hania. But their seemingly perfect match is tested when their marriage transitions from familial obligation to a deeply personal relationship. Zafar's fiery ego-his anaa-clashes with Hania's quiet devotion, especially when family interference threatens their bond. "Anaa" is a poignant tale of love nurtured over years, challenged by pride and family dynamics, and tested by personal insecurities. Can two people, bound by tradition and destiny, overcome the weight of their own egos to forge a love that is truly theirs?

Ahmed bhai please! I'm begging you don't marry her. She's no good, she'll destroy you and our family. Please listen to me." Sahaan begs in front of him. "What the fuck is wrong with you Sahaan?" She flinches as his loud voice resonates the room. "I LOVE HER!" Ahmed seethes. Sahaan could hear the breaking of the small organ residing in her chest. She looks down teary eyed. Ahmed harshly grips her forearm and jerks her towards him and cups her jaw tightly, his finger digging in her cheeks making a painful whimper leaving from her mouth. She closes her eyes tightly resulting in few tears to fall of her cheeks. "Listen to me and listen well, this is the last time I'm hearing such words from your disgusting mouth. Next time don't even take my fiancee's name from your dirty mouth." Saying this he pushes her away. She stumbles towards the closet, her back hitting the rock-hard closet handle. Pain sears through her back and her wince doesn't go unnoticed by him. He steps forward in concern but stops remembering her words. A cold look flashes in his beautiful stormy grey eyes. Sahaan looks at him, her eyes filled with pain and unshed tears! "You will regret it." Sahaan whispers. Hearing the confidence in her tone makes Ahmed stop right before the door, but he doesn't turn back. "Believe me! I know her more than you. She is my cousin after all. She is cunning and deceitful, mark my words Ahmed! You will regret not listening to me once you know her true nature." Sahaan's voice cracks. Tears are threatening to spill out her eyes. ~~~ "Sahaan Haashir Khan binte marhoom Hashir Lashari Khan kya aapko aapka nikkah Ahmed Ashar Khan wald Yaqub Lashari Khan se sikkah raaijul waqt me 50,000 rupee meher qubool hai?" she clenches her dupatta at sides.tears leaving her eyes rapidly she remember Ahmed's words just before nikkah. Rest of the description and translations to urdu dialogues inside. ©All rights reserved

❝Dupatta apne sar par karo,❞ he said in a low voice. Umul blinked. She frowned and looked up at him. ❝Kya?❞. ❝I said, dupatta apne sar par lo,❞ he repeated, this time with a little more stern edge to his tone. She looked at him, stunned... Who the hell does he think he is? ❁❁❁ She is 22... quiet, overlooked, and misunderstood by her own family. She lives as an invisible person. But a series of events slowly begins to pull her closer to her faith, to her Lord. He is 29... hardened by the world that has shown him some of its darkest sides. Pain and loss have turned his heart to stone. When they are forced into marriage, neither of them wants, will they find solace in each other, heal each other... or will their pasts tear them apart? ⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕ Trigger Warnings: This story contains themes that may be distressing to some readers, including suicidal thoughts, Implied/referenced suicide, graphic violence, vulgar language, and other mature content. Copyright ©2025 by Batool

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 ꜱᴀʜᴇʟ ᡣ𐭩 ʜᴀꜰꜱᴀ Tracing her bangles up, he let the silence speak for itself for a while and then muttered, "Aapko choodiyan pasand hai?" He asked, pulling her body closer by her wrist, and now she stood almost between his legs. She was blushing, looking nervous and uneasy but he paid it no mind. "Ji, pasand hai." He hummed, nodding. "Agar mujhse ye toot gayi toh aapko acha nahi lagega na?" He murmured, lifting his other hand, puffing out another air of smoke.

"𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎, 𝓈𝒽𝑒'𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒶𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒶𝓉. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑒𝓇." They told me her name would bring influence. That her bloodline would open doors no campaign ever could. That marrying her would tie me to the minister whose word sways cabinets and commands kings. I was twenty-two, hungry and unshaken- A 𝒢𝒽𝒶𝒹𝓏𝒾 by name, born of legacy and cold-blooded business. So I agreed. To the alliance. To the girl. 𝒜𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓇𝒶 𝒮𝒾𝒹𝒹𝒾𝓆𝓊𝑒 𝒬𝓊𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒾𝓈𝒽𝒾. She was fifteen when they marked her as mine. Eighteen when we signed the nikkah. I never saw her-only the tremble of pale fingers, and the quiet grace in her signature beside mine. And then I left. Now, at the brink of becoming the youngest Chief Minister this state has ever seen, they say it's time to complete the picture. Time for her rukhsati. Time to claim the girl I never forgot to remember. She's the granddaughter of a man who could make me king. And somehow, she's also the one thing in this game that feels... undeserved. And now she's waiting. And I don't know if I'm ready. Because what do men like me know of worthiness, when all we've ever known is conquest?

𝐇𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧🤍 𝑴𝒆𝒆𝒓 𝑨𝒛𝒍𝒂𝒏 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒉 was never the man who believed in love. Reserved, composed, and burdened by expectations, he agreed to marry 𝗔𝘀𝗸𝗮 𝗔𝗹𝗶 to fulfill a promise made - not out of choice, but respect. To him, marriage was an obligation... a bond wrapped in silence. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 . 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍. 𝑨𝒛𝒌𝒂 𝑨𝒍𝒊 ,on the other hand, came into the marriage with quiet hope. She didn't expect grand gestures, just a corner in his world - a little space to exist, to breathe, to be seen. But Azlan's silence was louder than words, and his quiet care sharper than any workship. Until the small things began to change.🕊

"They say no good deed goes unpunished" 〽️〽️〽️ AKARIST CREATIONS PRESENTS 〽️〽️〽️ The quiet but pathetic life of twenty-year-old Mia Jefferson changed the night she found a few months old interracial baby boy abandoned in a dumpster on her way home. She saved him and kept him in her care for almost a month until she was taken by a deadly gang who accused her of abduction. She thought it was it for her until the ruthless gang leader, Nathaniel Kincaid, known on the streets as Big Kai and the father of the baby appeared and added to her punishment. At the point when Mia is about to give up, Big Kai makes her his baby's nanny as the only way to convince him that she is not the abductor. As she picked up her care for the baby, Big Kai watched her every move consistently, placing his heart in a dark and passionate risk. 〽️〽️〽️ "Take them off," he ordered. I furrowed my brows in terror. The shudders from the hostages he has tied up to a chair in the same room as us filled my ears. He narrowed his eyes at me. "I don't...." "Take off your panties and come sit your ass on my face," he ordered. My heart pounded at his ridiculous demand. There are hostages in here, what is he... "Didn't you hear me, Mia?" "I...I can't....." He cocked his gun instantly and.... BANG! I jumped the minute he shot one of the hostages. "If I repeat myself, white girl, they die." he gestured to the hostages. I swallowed in absolute terror. "Now, your panties off and ass on my face or these motherfuckers transcends in a jiffy. Make a choice. Quickly."

"What good is that beautiful face if you can't even please your man?" 𝑭𝒐𝒓 18+ 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔. (𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻) #1𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 #1𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 ━━❅━━ Warning: This story might contain explicit content unsuitable for younger readers. Proceed at your own risk, as this author's work is notoriously addictive, and you might develop an intense obsession with her vividly crafted characters. ... "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a silken caress as his hands continued to knead her dainty feet. "Will you pull such naughty pranks on your loving husband again?" Her eyes fluttered down in shyness, and she shook her head. She detested it when he ignored her. "I won't, husband." "Good. Now, it's time for another punishment." Her eyes widened. "W-What punishment, husband?" He said nothing, merely pulling her down and pinning her to the desk. Half her body leaned on the flat surface, her bottom provocatively arched. "This is your original punishment, darling." He would no longer restrain himself.

⚠️This story is a work of fiction and explores themes based on cultural traditions, emotional struggles, and personal transformation. She stormed out to the garden. "Say something!" she snapped, eyes burning. "Or are you still playing that 'I'm-too-pure-to-talk' game? Still pretending to be holy?" And that's when Raif moved. Fast. Zariah didn't even have time to blink before her back hit the nearby pillar - not hard, but firm enough to freeze her breath. His hand gripped her waist tightly, the other at her wrist, locking her in place. His chest pressed to hers. His face was inches from hers. His voice was deep. Controlled. But deadly serious. "It's no longer like always, Zariah." Her lips parted. "I used to ignore you because I knew my limits. I'm not like those men who flirt and sin and call it love. I feared Allah more than I ever desired you." His eyes narrowed, dark fire glowing behind them. "I didn't punish you back then because I respect women - even when they spit venom. I kept my mouth shut, not because I was weak... but because you weren't my mahram. I had no right to look at you, touch you, even speak without reason." He leaned closer, and she could feel his breath brush her cheek. "But now..." His grip on her tightened, and her body trembled - not from fear, but from the intensity in his words. "Now you are my wife. Now, you belong to me. Halal. Lawful. Mine." Zariah tried to turn her face away, but he caught her chin, tilting it back to him. "Now I can do anything I want. I can touch you. I can silence your insults without guilt. And I can show you what it means to be owned in a way that'll make you crave it again." His lips brushed her neck, just for a second - before he bit her. Not soft. Not brutal. But just enough to sting, enough to leave a mark. Zariah gasped, frozen. He pulled back just a little. "This-" he said, brushing his thumb over the fresh mark on her neck, "-is the first of many."