"Did you think... I would force myself on you?" Shubman's voice was low yet every word struck straight at the heart. "No.......Not me. You will walk to me on your own... and you'll say......"touch me". "Even if I die, that day will never come!" Ishan rolled his eyes. "Me? And I'd ask you to touch me? Huh! Stop dreaming in broad daylight." "Dreaming in daylight?" he said, taking a step closer. "Ishan... dreams are the things that break. But what I say... becomes a habit...... And one day, you'll come to me yourself... without a word, without a thought," Shubman said "This is a fictional story. The characters only share names with real people, but the story and personalities are completely imaginary." ( update every Sunday) This story based on 1500s bc yes I'm back with another story... main character- shubman gill & ishan kishan Top - Shubman gill Bottom- ishan kishan #ishman #shubish # monster #wild #18+ # age gap

In the village of Kharavali, nestled among the golden wheat fields of rural Punjab, every bad thing was common and fear was the only law that truly mattered. Here, the Gill family ruled as undisputed heads for three generations. They owned the lands, the wells, the transport routes, and the silence of every soul who lived within the crumbling stone walls. No dispute was settled, no problem solved, and no tradition enforced without their word. The village existed in a perpetual shadow of cruelty disguised as custom where power flowed through blood and gold, and softness had no place to survive. At the centre of it all stood the grand yet oppressive Gill haveli, a fortress that swallowed lives and spat out obedience. In Kharavali, the Gills did not govern. They owned. WARNING ⚠️ The story contains dark theme, read on your own, you've been warned already. #r*pe #mpreg #violence

If 'fate' were a person, people would regard them as chauvinist. Why? 'cause it has its 𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙨. No matter how you frame it, you are just helpless and completely under it's control. Elseways, Who would've thought that the CEO of the leading automobile company, known for his charisma and kind demeanor, would be a murderer? Fate proved its treachery by giving all the diamonds to this man. "𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘺, 𝘐𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘯" [You have been warned] cover credits: @hisMysticmess

Ishan Kishan is a billionaire's son with nothing but a pill addiction and a heart full of spite. Shubman Gill is the orphan who inherited it all-including Ishan. ​It was supposed to be a simple arrangement: Shubman keeps Ishan safe until he's twenty-five. Ishan stays out of trouble. But Ishan is a rebel with a taste for self-destruction, and Shubman's secret love is a flame that's about to consume them both. Author's Note - This story is purely fictional.While the characters bear the names and likenesses of real-life cricketers Ishan Kishan and Shubman Gill, their personalities, backgrounds, and the events in this story are entirely products of my imagination for narrative purposes. I have immense respect and admiration for both Ishan and Shubman as athletes and individuals. This story is written out of appreciation for their bond and is not intended to disrespect, defame, or offend them or their fans. Reference to real-world institutions, locations, or establishments is intended solely to provide a fictional setting and does not imply any association with or endorsement by these entities.

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥. 𝐀 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧..... 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞.

In the war-torn nation of Valmera, love is the quietest rebellion. A soldier devoted to duty. A carrier who teaches him to feel again. And a boy who still waits for letters that never come. Three hearts bound by promises broken not by bullets, but by silence.