Highly mature content A game of revenge, love, hatred and manipulation. #1 in desi love #1 in lonely #1 in adult-content #1 in recommendation #1 in watty #1 in fiction

𝐙𝐚𝐡𝐢𝐫 × 𝐃𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐯𝐢 | 𝟑𝟏 × 𝟐3 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬: #𝟏 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥 She saw him more than once. And every time, her heart betrayed her; racing, stumbling, fluttering like a caged butterfly chasing a memory. Her breath shortened, her chest tightened, and still, she said nothing. Because it wasn't her place. Because she was never meant to be seen. Until she was. Until the day she stood before him, not as a stranger in the crowd, but as his bride. The wrong bride. He had seen her before. Once in passing, her eyes barely a flicker in his peripheral vision, dismissed for a prettier pair. The second time, he saw her through a vow sealed in blood and duty. And rage erupted. Exacting. Demanding. She wasn't supposed to wear that dress. She wasn't supposed to carry his name. But now that she does... There's no turning back.

"𝙏𝙪𝙨𝙞 𝙗𝙤𝙝𝙩 𝙯𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙞 𝙝𝙤, 𝙍𝙚𝙝𝙢𝙖𝙩. 𝙋𝙖𝙧 𝙩𝙪𝙨𝙞 𝙚𝙝 𝙗𝙝𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚 𝙝𝙤... 𝘽𝙖𝙟𝙬𝙖 𝙖𝙥𝙣𝙞 𝙯𝙞𝙙𝙙 𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙞 𝙧𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙙𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙞, 𝙞𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙝𝙞." 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗗𝗼𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿: 𝖣𝗋. 𝖱𝖾𝗁𝗆𝖺𝗍 𝖲𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗅𝗅. Proud, sharp-tongued, and fiercely independent. The daughter of a highly respected, shareef medical family, she refuses to let her white coat or her dignity be turned into a feudal politician's personal trophy. ​𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗲: 𝖬𝖫𝖠 𝖱𝖺𝗇𝗏𝖾𝖾𝗋 𝖡𝖺𝗃𝗐𝖺. An absolute power center governed by raw, primitive territoriality. He is a gabhru who ends transport strikes by breaking knees, treats the party High Command like the dust beneath his leather boots, and moves with a lethal vailpuna authority. ​It was supposed to be a simple battle of professional boundaries. Instead, it became an all-out war of pure zidd. Rehmat is determined to wash her hands of the Bajwa family siyapa and escape to a quiet, clean future across the ocean. Ranveer is ready to bring down the entire state ministry before he lets her pack a single suitcase. With his shadow surveillance team trapping her in an iron perimeter and his single touch sparking a dangerous, localized fever against her clinical logic, her structured world completely flatlines. ​In this brutal collision of raw pride, ankh, and unadulterated obsession, there is no middle path. Because when a Bajwa claims a territory, he either rules it with a heavy hand or burns the whole damn grid to ash. 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑒𝑁𝑜𝑖𝑟♡︎ Note:- It's my first time so please give it a try.

The portrait should have been nothing more than paint on fading canvas- Yet the moment the students stepped into the museum hall, the air shifted. It felt as if the walls remembered things -Prisha felt it first. Prisha Mehta-quiet, observant, orphaned-stood apart from her class, fingers grazing the railing as her eyes fixed on the newly unearthed painting. Princess Shivanya Maheshwari. The artist had painted her like a prayer. Long kohl-lined eyes. Dusky skin glowing beneath jewels. A soft mouth curved with grace. But beneath all the beauty, something felt terribly wrong. Prisha's heartbeat stilled. Because the princess didn't just resemble her. She looked exactly like her.The same eyes. The same bone structure. The same face. Her professor spoke somewhere behind her, recounting how Shivanya's kingdom fell to war centuries ago. How she died young, slain by the ruthless Prince Prithviraj Kshatriya-heir of the rival throne. That night, sleep refused to come. Something inside her whispered- Go back. She shouldn't have. She shouldn't have snuck past the locked museum doors, shouldn't have wandered alone through marble corridors lit only by thunder. But curiosity-dangerous, consuming-pulled her in. Thunder cracked above, rattling the walls.Prisha's breath hitched. And then-even before she could scream-the ground split open beneath her. The museum vanished. With a violent gasp, she clawed her way to the surface. Gone was the museum. Gone was the girl she had been. She staggered to her feet-drenched, trembling- maroon silk clinging to her body, gold heavy around her throat and wrists. She wasn't wearing her own clothes anymore.She was wearing the princess's. Prisha-no, Shivanya-stood in a storm-drenched forest. The only way back to her time was through the portrait. But to reach it...she would have to survive the kingdom that killed her once- -and the prince who was never meant to fall in love with her.

Book 1 in Political Series He wasn't the kind of man people spoke about softly. Yuvraaj Singh Malik The young MLA of Haryana. Future face of politics. Son of the current Chief Minister. Calm. Composed. Untouchable. The kind of man who never raises his voice... because people tremble before he ever needs to. Power followed him like a shadow. And so did fear. Until one random afternoon, he sees a girl standing in the middle of the road, arguing fearlessly while helping an old woman gather her fallen belongings. No fear. No hesitation. No interest in who was watching her. And for the first time in years, someone stays in Yuvraaj Singh Malik's mind longer than politics. Kashish Bhardwaj never planned to be noticed by a man like him. A postgraduate student from a strict Brahmin family, a girl balancing studies, work, dreams, and responsibilities all together. Opinionated. Fierce. And completely unaware that every passing day, the MLA of Haryana is beginning to memorize her existence. The routes she takes. The cafés she visits. The dogs she feeds. The expressions she makes when she's angry. It starts with silent glances. Then curiosity. Then obsession. And the scariest part? Yuvraaj Singh Malik has never walked away from something once he decides he wants it. Trops:- ༺ calm dangerous ML ༺ politician × independent girl ༺ he fell first ༺ he fell way too hard ༺ silent obsession ༺ one woman man ༺ "uski pasandida aurat" ༺ the only woman he softens for ༺ eye-contact tension ༺ slow burn romance ༺ Haryanvi ML ༺ strong female lead ❥ This is a completely desi Haryanvi story set in Haryana, so Hindi and Haryanvi dialogues will be used according to the characters and vibe 🌙 ❥ English is not my first language and this is my very first story, so please ignore small grammatical mistakes 😭✨ ❥ I hope you all enjoy Yuvraaj and Kashish's world as much as I enjoy creating it 🤍

He never forgot her name. Not once. Not in nine years. Not through the blood and the power and the silence. Not ever. Viransh Singhania is the kind of man who doesn't love halfway. Who doesn't want halfway. Who looked at a girl once really looked - and decided, quietly, irreversibly, that there would never be anyone else. And there wasn't. Nine years. An ocean between them. An empire built with bloodied hands and an aching heart. And through all of it - her. Always her. Like a religion he never chose but could never abandon. Like a wound that never healed because somewhere, deep down, he never wanted it to. She is his ruin. His salvation. The only thing in a world full of power that ever made him feel powerless. And he would do it all again - every sin, every scar, every sleepless night - just to end up exactly here. ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── A desi dark romance. 18+ for mature themes, age gap, and adult content.

Book 1 in Political Series A book describing a desi story plotted with Haryanavi touch with a mix of many average but sweet love stories in there. Not your typical politician and mafia leader along with being a C.E.O *huff* too many roles in one packet. A full time Politician who had politics running in his blood at a different level of pace. 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒓𝒂𝒋 𝑺𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒉 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒖𝒅𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒚 :- A leading politician from Haryana (India) whose whole life revolves around only three points.....Politics...Power...and Brotherhood. But what if someone special enters in it and make our Mr. MLA forget all these. Not your typical shy, pretty, rich or all rounder Female of a story. 𝑨𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒂 𝑹𝒂𝒐 :- A real middle class girl and a student who knows there is nothing called Prince Charming in this sh!tty world and believes to have a bad fate like her mother and aunts in her family when it comes to marriage. But what if someone makes her realise that yes there are men like those stories, not that 100% perfect but still enough fictional to make you fall in love with? Student × Politician . . . . ✯ I'll just say.... please read the introduction chapters and after that you're free to leave if it's not your cup of tea. ✯ It's my first story so please ignore the mistakes. ✯ English is not my first language.

Mature Content ~~ Book 1 In Villian Series . He swore loyalty to the man who stole everything from him...but loyalty is just another mask of vengeance. Trapped in a world of power , secrets and betrayal , he steps into a lion den with a smile on his lips and revenge in his blood . To destroy the man who shattered his past , he plays the part of a devoted ally---going as far as marrying into the very family he wants to ruin. But not everything is as it seems . She carries wounds no one sees , scars from childhood shadowed by silence . A healer of the brain by profession , a broken soul beneath . Her trauma walks back into her life just as she's forced into a marriage she never wanted . And while one man fights to uncover the truth behind a mother's death , another man quietly falls apart under the weight of secrets he's never known . Because the people pulling the strings aren't the ones you'd expect ---and when the masks start to slip , love , obsession and vengeance will all blur into one . _________________________________ _________________________________ LETHAL & HEALER ~~~

𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙆𝙞 𝙇𝙖𝙩𝙩 𝙈𝙤𝙝𝙚.... 𝘼𝙚𝙨𝙞 𝙇𝙖𝙜𝙞 𝙃𝙤𝙜𝙮𝙞... ♡𝙈𝘼𝙄 𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙒𝘼𝘼𝙍𝙄♡ ******************** Those eyes. Dark, intense, and impossibly deep, fixed on me in a way that made my breath catch. There was no anger in them, no mockery, just a strange calm that pulled me in without warning. I couldn't explain why my heart started pounding so loudly or why looking away felt impossible. In that moment, it felt like the world had shifted slightly off its axis, leaving me shaken in a way I wasn't ready to understand. ~ Anvi Malhotra✨ ________________________________________________ This peacock feather... it reminds me of Krishna and Radha, the kind of love that people don't just feel, but worship. A love so pure that it became divine. I know nothing in this world can ever match what they shared. Maybe no human love ever can. But what I feel is honest, and it comes from the deepest part of my heart. It may not be perfect, but it is real. So, with your permission, can you please make me yours? Can you please do me the honour of calling me yours?" ~ Avighna Rawal🦚 ________________________________________________ Dive into the story to know more ❤️✨. No cheating. No toxicity. No love triangles. Just a simple school love story filled with love, friendship, laughter, and moments that might bring back memories of your school days. 29/4/26 - [No. 1 on top 10 indian stories] 2/7/26 - [No. 7 on top 10 indian stories] ________________________________________________ © 2025 by PranishaXwriters. All rights reserved.

His fingers trailed along her cheek. "Say it," Dhruvay murmured, voice raw with longing. "Say you missed me, wife." Roopa's eyes dropped to his wrapped hand again, the way it trembled slightly, the way he'd covered it with something that belonged to her instead of getting treated properly. Her throat tightened. "You bled, fought, got yourself hurt," she whispered shakily, eyes glossing with something unspoken. "And came all this way... for this?" His lips curled, amused, but that glint in his eyes darkened. "Tch. That mouth... I missed that too." She placed her palm on his chest, trembling fingers pressing against the thudding heart beneath. Not to push him away. But to feel him. To ground herself. To steady her pulse that threatened to race away. "If I say I missed you," she whispered, her voice laced with fear and fury, "what would you do?" "I'd never let you leave again," he said without a blink. "Not even to breathe." Tears burned her eyes, but she swallowed them. "And if I don't?" His gaze darkened. The smile faded like smoke vanishing in wind. "Then I'll still keep you," he said coldly. "But you'll bleed with me, wife... until you understand you were never meant to run." A gasp caught in her throat. He meant every word. Every scar on him was a sentence for her. "You're reckless," she whispered, "you terrify me." His expression flickered into something possessive, before he smiled again. A wicked, burning smile. "Good. Then maybe you'll stop running." His other hand slided beneath the hem of her top, resting possessively on her waist. "Now be a good girl, Roopa," he whispered, "and say you missed me." ~~❉~~ A forced marriage. A stolen past. And a love she was never meant to feel. When the truth comes out, will her heart betray her pride? Curious to know what happens next? Start reading DhRupa now.