#extradirty
art blog(derogatory)
Product Placement
trying on a metaphor
macklin celebrini has autism
pixel skylines
Three Goblin Art
hello vonnie
Stranger Things
if i look back, i am lost
Jules of Nature
almost home
⁂
wallacepolsom
Game of Thrones Daily
★
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
tannertan36
Claire Keane
titsay
seen from Philippines
seen from India
seen from Pakistan
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Canada
seen from Pakistan
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Ukraine
seen from Pakistan
seen from Poland
seen from France
seen from South Africa
@yalina-rangi
Excuse my absence for a while. I got my exams this month and it is really hectic.
I'll try to write a bit in my free time....but if not, then don't worry I have a lot in mind that I wanna write. I'll be back in full force from next month 😝
~ Silence ~
Taglist: @bitchy-bi-trash @wannabefucko @gyatout @vampiredaisiesss @axxtxxym @ai-manre @strawbxx-blog @suburbanlegendzzzz @feministmenlover @bonradswiftie @daydreaming-in-moonlight @hum-suffer @tomzrdjcill @dc-reign
Author's note: This is a bit on the heavier side...if the response is good I might write a smut continuation of it. It's not very long...and it's not much but I still wanted to try and write this scene. Let me know whether you like it♥️
Ulfat had been sitting in her boy’s room since morning.
Ulfat stopped crying days ago. Often she would find herself sitting in her son's room.
It's been days since she heard Naeeim's voice. Her heart had dried out waiting to hear him call her Ammi just one more time.
Like a routine she would straighten the bedsheets, arrange the already arranged books...tidying up the room a hundred times over as if it would somehow bring him back.
She would almost call him out loud to scold him as usual, if she found a stray cigarette that he might have stolen from his father. She would almost call out her son's name...but then the reality would come crashing down on her all over again ... raining like a thousand knives to her chest.
She sat in her son’s room because it was the only place in the house where time felt honest. Everywhere else.... everyone else ...had already begun to move on. Here, nothing pretended. The air still carried his absence with an almost deliberate cruelty.
She had lived long enough beside Rehman Dakait to understand darkness. It had brushed against her life often, in stains and bruises she pretended not to see. She had not fought it. She had made her peace with the knowledge of who her husband was and what his world required. Whatever reached her had been her burden to carry.
Her son had never been meant to carry it with her.
Ulfat went through cycles of grief and rage, directed mostly towards Rehman.
Because it was the easiest thing to do. He was there. He was alive. He was reachable.
Deep down she knew it wasn’t his fault. Or at least not his alone. But grief and resentment were hardly ever that understanding. They didn’t look for logic; they only looked for somewhere to settle.
That one night, when she found herself standing outside Naeem’s door as per her usual routine after his demise, she heard shallow breathing from inside. It was uneven, restrained — like someone trying not to be heard. She didn’t need to open the door to know it was her husband.
But she did open it anyway.
The look on Rehman’s face made her stop.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, hands clasped together as if holding himself in place. He looked smaller there, almost unfamiliar — stripped of the certainty he carried so easily everywhere else. Not the man the city feared. Not the man she had learned to live beside. Just a father sitting in his son’s room, breathing like it hurt to exist.
For a moment, her anger didn’t know where to go.
It hovered, confused, suddenly too loud for the silence in the room. She realized then that whatever rage she had been holding onto had never been meant for this version of him. And yet, she didn’t know how to let it go either.
She quietly stepped away as she didn't yet know how to confront him yet. But that night was when her heart of a grieving mother recognised that of the grieving father. Her anger didn't dissipate...but it was no longer directed at Rehman
This afternoon however was chaotic. It seemed like the usual business her husband carried, however there was a different sense of urgency....sharper...more deliberate.
She sensed it despite not being told.
They were preparing to face Babu Dakait. The killer of her child.
The house was echoing with hurried footsteps, doors opening and closing too fast, voices kept deliberately low. Men had come and gone before sunrise. No one had looked at her directly. No one needed to explain what was being set into motion.
By noon, the house had gone quiet again. That was worse.
She sat on the edge of the bed that still smelled faintly of soap and old books, her hands folded in her lap, unmoving. The room had been cleaned too thoroughly after the funeral — as if scrubbing hard enough could erase absence. It didn’t work. Nothing had.
From somewhere beyond the walls, the city carried on. Vendors shouted. Engines started. Life behaved as though it hadn’t just taken something from her and dared to keep breathing.
Ulfat knew where Rehman was.
She had known since the moment the house stirred that morning, since the moment she heard his name spoken with urgency instead of fear. Babu Dakait had survived long enough to become a problem again.
She didn’t pray. Prayer required hope, and hope felt dangerous.
Instead, she waited.
Time passed excruciatingly slow...light shifting across the floor, the ticking sound of a clock, the weight in her chest growing heavier with every hour that returned him no closer to home.
And then she finally heard a faint hubbub of the boys. It was cheerful and celebratory. She couldn't hear her husband but she knew he was among them, like a wolf leading his pack back from a successful hunt.
She let out a shaky breath. Was it or relief? She didn't know. All she knew was that her child's murderer was gone. Her husband had served her justice.
She waited in the same room. She knew his footsteps would lead him to where she is....it always did. No matter how carefully he tried to keep his worlds apart, he always ended up here, his home, his safe place....his jaan.
The door creaked open.
The roaring of the guys from downstairs barely fell upon her ears. Her eyes were locked in on Rehman's.
He stood in the doorway for a moment, unmoving, as if unsure whether to cross the threshold. His face gave nothing away ; no triumph, no satisfaction. Only exhaustion, etched deep enough to look permanent.
There was blood on him.... splattered across his face, covering his hands. His father's blood.
Ulfat quietly got up and walked towards him.
Rehman's eyes followed her, never uttering a word.
She took his bloody hands in hers. She closed her fingers around them gently but firmly and turned, guiding him away from the room. Away from the bed that no longer belonged to anyone.
She did not want that blood here.
Not in her son’s space
"Baithiye." She whispered hoarsely, the first word she uttered to him since that fateful day.
He obeyed.
Ulfat went to the washbasin and returned with water, soap, and a clean cloth. She knelt in front of him without ceremony, as if this too were part of some routine they had never named.
She took his hands again.
The blood had begun to dry in places, darkened where it had settled into the lines of his skin, beneath his nails, along his cuffs. She worked slowly, methodically.
Neither of them spoke.
The water turned pink, then darker. She changed it and continued.
Rehman stayed still, watching her as if any movement from him might undo whatever fragile balance and sanity she was holding together.
When she pressed too hard, he barely flinched, bug being his wife she could sense even the slightest movements.
She softened her touch.
“Haath seedhe rakhiye,” she murmured, barely audible.
He did.
As the blood washed away, something else seemed to surface in its place .... the weight of what had been done, the silence of what could never be undone.
Ulfat scrubbed until the water finally ran clear.
She set the cloth aside and remained there for a moment longer, still holding his hands.
Outside, the house was loud with men celebrating survival.
Inside - just them...in their own world.
Rehman pulled her up gently and placed her on his lap.
His hands brushed her hair away from her face, carefully, as if even this small touch might bruise her. His breath fanned her skin as his eyes traced every inch of her, lingering not with desire, but with something far heavier.
This was his doing.
She had always been meant to remain untouched by this world of his ... this darkness that followed him as his shadow .
She was a delicate doll he had guarded fiercely, fought for ruthlessly, hidden behind locked doors and loyal men. He had broken bones and spilled blood so that she would never have to see this side of him.
But now she sat, as a grieving mother. A mother who outlived her child.
Her eyes that were once full of innocent happiness..Now there was a quiet heaviness in her gaze, a stillness born of loss ; a loss he could not undo, no matter how many men he killed in its name.
His thumb brushed faintly against her jaw, grounding himself in the warmth of her skin.
She was real. She was here. Still breathing. Still his.
The weight of the day finally settled into his bones then — the blood, the noise, the rage, the revenge.
His forehead rested briefly against her shoulder, voice low, almost defeated as he murmured:
“Thak gaya hoon main.”
Not from the killing.
But from failing to keep her untouched by it.
Ulfat didn’t answer him.
She only leaned forward, slowly, as if her body weighed more than it used to. Her hands came up to his shoulders for balance, fingers curling into the fabric there. For a moment, she hovered, still unsure... and then she pressed a brief kiss to his forehead.
Like a pardon.
Rehman went still beneath her. The kind of stillness that comes when a man realises he’s been spared something far worse than punishment.
His eyes closed without him meaning to. The breath he let out was uneven, like he had been holding it in for days.
She didn’t pull away immediately.
Instead, she rested her forehead against his, just long enough for him to feel the warmth of her skin. To remind him she was here. Still breathing. Still choosing to touch him.
Her arms slid around him then, in an embrace that felt like he was trying to mold herself into him. He pulled her closer until her weight settled against his chest. His chin found the top of her head. His grip loosened, the fight finally draining out of him.
They stayed like that.
No words.
No explanations.
Just two tired bodies pressed together, clinging quietly in the aftermath. His heartbeat slowed beneath her ear. Her breathing evened out against his ribs. For the first time in days, neither of them felt the need to put up a wall...a guard against the world.
The world could wait.
For now, this was enough.
Sorry guys....I'm a bit busy with final exam prep 😭😭
But dw I'm also working on a short rehmanXulfat drabble which I'll be posting soon hopefully 🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻
Nothing just Akshaye Khanna's h̶a̶i̶r̶ wig appreciation post from Dhurandhar😌🤌🏻
His stylist deserves a raise👌🏻
HERO being in love with his woman💪🏻x💕
VILLAIN being in love with his woman🔪x💕
That's the beauty of DHURANDHAR😌🤌🏻
Hated the words like Sigma, Chad, Alpha during Animal movie release. Thought that disrespect towards women kind is what those words meant but then Aditya Dhar proves that you can make a Testosterone & Gore filled movie without hurting woman's sentiments✨
Be it Akshaye Khanna' Rehman Dacait🗿
Or Ranveer Singh's Hamza Ali Mazari🗿
Both have female audiences like us praising these characters for showing affection & respect towards their woman😘
Putting aside the fact that the real Rehman was undeniably a monster—
Akshaye Khanna’s portrayal gives us a man the city is terrified of, yet one who is fiercely, disturbingly devoted to his wife and children.
That contrast is unsettling… and that’s exactly why it stays with you.
And that's exactly why this is such good fodder for us dark romance girlies...
I do have some ideas for rehmanXulfat fics in mind 👁️👅👁️
I just know imma loose my damn mind when part 2 drop 👁️👄👁️
Red on the Horizon
HamzaxYalina|NSFW|Minors Dni (don't interact)
Taglist: @bitchy-bi-trash @wannabefucko @gyatout @vampiredaisiesss @axxtxxym @ai-manre @strawbxx-blog @suburbanlegendzzzz
Authors note: Never written a smut for desi characters so forgive me for anything cringe that might follow lol.
Red.
That's all he could see that night.
He was left standing alone on the bridge after he confronted Alam on why the hell Indian agencies couldn't stop the disaster he saw unravelling just a few hours before.
The painfully beautiful silver light of the moon washed over him as his mind slipped into desolate darkness.
It felt like a mockery.
He watched his home burn. Hamza- or rather Jaskirat, watched his home burn while standing right among the fuckers who set it ablaze.
The memory of him handing the gun to Ajmal was playing over and over in his head like a broken record.
The guilt and the helplessness was choking him till he tried to drown it all in alcohol. But this wasn't really something you could forget with booze.
Hamza didn't realise when or how he ended up inside his dilapidated apartment, standing in front of a tear-streaked, fuming Yalina.
Through his blood red eyes he could see her standing in front of him, but all his mind registered was a blur of curly haired mess. It was like he could faintly make out someone was screaming in front of him, thumping his chest and crying...but his fogged up brain couldn't quite figure it out.
That was until a sharp slap ripped through his skin...making his ears ring. His eyes cleared, focusing on the girl in front of him.
The difference in their height made her attempt to hit him almost laughable...the slap barely stung him. However, somehow it was still enough to make his dark train of self loathing thoughts come to a screeching halt.
Somehow that weak slap made all the noise in his head collapse into a sudden, unbearable silence.
He could finally see her with clarity - tears blurring her pretty eyes which were now all puffed up and red, clearly from a night spent crying till there were no tears left. Her kajal flowed down her face and left dark streaks on her pale skin. Her curls were clinging to her damp face as she looked up at him with accusing eyes.
Hamza didn't quite hear what all she said so far but she was quite obviously distressed because of his overnight absence.
The momentary calm Hamza felt after the slap started to slip away as he felt his rage build up yet again within him. Of course Yalina couldn't even fathom just what exactly he went through, and of course he was the one who dragged her into this mess...but such logic still didn't help him keep his rage at bay. After all she was the daughter of the enemy nation.
But Hamza knew that no matter how many times he told himself she was just a pawn in his game, the warmth growing in his chest refused to be ignored. Even standing in the aftermath of a terrorist attack carried out by her nation against his own, he couldn’t bring himself to hate her.
That didn’t mean the rage wasn’t still there.
The rage wasn't because of her, he knew that well. It was because of himself, because of the stupidly cruel twist of fate that made him set his own country on fire - the very country he gave up everything for....and because he could feel himself slipping away under her gaze. He was a spy, he wasn't supposed to build emotional relations...not like this.
So despite knowing none of it was her fault, she felt like an easy target to release his frustrations upon.
Yalina saw the instant shift in Hamza's eyes. The previously hazy and unfocused pair of muddy green eyes were now trailed on her face with intensity enough to burn holes through her.
He took excruciatingly slow steps towards her, and she could feel her own legs stumble backwards with each step he took forward.
She kept stumbling backwards till she felt the wall bump into her. Hamza was now barely an inch from her. His locks of unruly but breathtakingly beautiful hair fell on her face as she could feel the heat emanating from him.
His hot breath fanned her face.
It's not like she wasn't used to this proximity. It had now been days since she had been living together with him in his prison like home, and they had done far more intimate things. However, none of them had felt this intense. The cold and menacing expression on Hamza's face, which on other days looked at her with such softness, felt like that of a stranger.
When Yalina got involved with him, she knew was a dangerous dangerous man, playing a dangerous game. And though she vaguely acknowledged the consequences she might face of falling in love with a man like him, her rebellious nature took it on as challange.
But now that she stood pressed between the wall and the massive, hard chest of this criminally dangerous man, she wasn't so sure if she was brave enough anymore.
She knew she had to leave right then and there. She knew that the wisest choice would be to bolt out of that open door, leaving this dark brooding man in his own world of chaos.
But she couldn't move her legs.
It was as if his gaze held her in place, stripping away every sensible thought she had left. He was too close now—close enough for her to feel the weight of everything he wasn’t saying. The rage, the grief, the control barely hanging on by a thread. She had no inkling of what he actually went through, but his eyes seemed to communicate his inner turmoil directly to her.
Running would have been smarter.
"Mujhe pure Karachi ka badshah banna hain."
His raspy voice rang in her ears, low and certain, sending an unwelcome shiver down her spine.
"Agar mere sath chal sakti ho to puri zindagi sirf tumhara haq rahega mujh par."
Silence stretched between them.
He didn’t move closer, didn’t need to. The weight of his words settled heavy in the air, pressing into her chest. His muddy green eyes held hers, dark and unwavering, as if daring her to look away first.
It wasn’t a promise whispered in weakness.
It was an offer made from a position of absolute control.
"Lekin iske baad tum mujhse koi sawal nahi karogi... Agar nahi, to samne darwaza khula hain."
Yalina gulped nervously.
The clear warning rang in her ears like siren. His voice was as calm as it could get, but the veins popping on his forehead and the clenched fists told her very clearly just how much restraint he was exercising.
Hamza could hear her shaky breath as she trembled from his threat. Looking at her wide uncertain eyes, scared of him, he almost felt bad for her...but he knew he had to. The path alongside him won't be easy. She would always be kept in the dark and she should know it before she agrees to be his. She should know that he isn't some gangster looking man for her rebellious urges, but an actual dangerous man; a man who could ruin her.
Yalina finally broke away from the chokehold his gaze had her in. She quietly slipped past him with slow and steady steps and stood before the door that was ajar. She stood for a second... For a brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine the peace that waited beyond his old apartment—untainted, uncomplicated, but also...
painfully empty.
Hamza let out a sigh, fully expecting her to leave. After all any girl in their right mind would right?
He didn’t stop her. Didn’t call out. Didn’t turn around.
He heard the click of the latch instead.
The door shut...in an act of defiance almost.
He turned then.
His eyes trained in her petite form as she walked back to him, chin lifted, eyes still glassy and red-rimmed from crying the whole night, but there was something sharp beneath the exhaustion now—resolve, edged with a smirk that didn’t quite soften the tension.
“Ajke baad,” she said quietly, almost lightly, “agar firse mujhe ghar se nikal jaane ki dhamki di”
Her fingers reached up, pushing his unruly hair back from his face, slow and intimate, as if testing the boundary he’d drawn.
“…toh main tumhe neend mein zinda jala dungi.”
Hamza realised he had been holding his breath in, waiting for words to tumble out of her soft lips. He knew that leaving his side would be the best course of action for her, but he couldn't help being a little selfish. He had given up on everything of his so far....and even though he got together with Yalina for his mission....he couldn't deny that she was what helped him hold onto his sanity as dwelled among his enemies.
He let her softly bring his head down to her level so that she could press a soft loving kiss to his forehead.
His arm instinctively wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as he breathed in her scent like it was a drug.
He let that momentary softness take over for a while. He let the moment breathe.
The kiss. The closeness. The quiet surrender she hadn’t even realised she’d offered.
Then he straightened.
He had allowed the softness — briefly, deliberately.
Not because he needed it, but because she did.
It was his way of quieting the tremor he could still feel in her, of acknowledging the night he had dragged her through without ever saying the words out loud.
But softness was never meant to linger.
She had crossed a line earlier.
Raised her hand at him.
And then, worse — chosen to stay.
That choice changed things.
Walking away would have kept her untouched by what he was. Staying meant learning how to exist in his world — a world that did not forgive defiance twice. He knew that if she stood beside him now, she had to understand the weight of it. Not later. Not gradually. Now.
He looked down at her then, really looked... not with anger, not with tenderness either, but with the cold clarity of a man who understood consequences better than most. If she was going to stand beside him now, she had to learn how to do it. Not as a rebellion. Not as an equal illusion.
"Yalina, main mazak nahi kar raha tha. Mere saath rehne ka matlab hoga meri har ek baat ka qubul karna..."
He hand came up to grip her face in a firm hold, forcing her to look up at him with those doe eyes of hers.
"Chahe Tumi pasand aay ya na aay..." He raised his brow ever so slightly, waiting for her affirmation.
Yalina swallowed hard and nodded faintly. Her heart raced violently in her chest. She was afraid — undeniably so — yet the realisation unsettled her more: some part of her wanted this. Needed it.
Hamza nodded and hummed in satisfaction as he pulled her flush against him. Yalina felt a tingle between her legs as his husky voice rumbled in her ears.
She blushed, realising her own body's response.
Hamza stroked his cheek, right where she had slapped. He smirked slightly, looking right at her with a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"Kaafi zor se mara tha..." He smirked looking at her flustered reaction as she realised what she had done before in the heat of the moment.
“Vo… main bas—” she stammered, the words dissolving on her tongue.
He watched her quietly, that faint curve at his lips still there, like he was letting her struggle on purpose — not out of cruelty, but control.
"Hmm.." he let out a grumble yet again, eliciting a similar reaction from her as before. All hair on her body stood up at his deliciously dangerous voice.
“Mujhe hadon ka khayal rakhna aata hai,” he said quietly.
“Aur jo had bhool jaaye… usey yaad dilana bhi.”
“Samjhi?”
Her breath hitched before she answered.
“Ji.”
The word trembled on her lips, carrying more than obedience. She knew exactly what was coming...the correction, the consequences, the inescapable weight of him claiming control.
And yet… part of her felt a strange, undeniable pull. A flutter of anticipation. Fear and desire tangled in her chest, sharp and thrilling. She was terrified, yes, but she was also… looking forward to it.
He leaned in just enough for her to feel him, not close enough to touch, not far enough to escape. His presence pressed into her space, overwhelming, intentional. She realised then that this wasn’t anger anymore — it was control. And control, in Hamza’s world, always came with consequences.
He didn’t give her a chance to think, to react. In one smooth motion, he lifted her, the strength in his arms absolute yet measured. She was suspended for a heartbeat, weightless and utterly at his mercy.
Then he settled her on the bed, letting her legs drape across his lap; with an unmistakable claim on his woman. Her back rested against his chest, and his arms circled her, securing her there.
There was no escaping him now. Every breath she took pressed against him, every pulse felt against the rhythm of his own heartbeat. She was caged within him, and the weight of that control, that inevitability, pressed down with a delicious, terrifying clarity.
He let a slow exhale escape, brushing her hair back from her face, and the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. Not teasing. Not playful. Just certainty. She was his for this moment — and the moment, he decided, was his to command.
Yalina's heavy breathing could now be heard clearly in the otherwise silent apartment, against the faint hubbub of the world outside... which couldn't matter less to either of them at this moment.
Because for now, there were the only two people who existed in this world.
Yalina could hear her own heartbeat as she sat trapped against this massive man of hers. One of his hands held her face in place, tilted to an angle of his liking as he brought down his lips against her pale exposed neck. The way he lapped at her neck was akin to that of a beast who had been hungry for days and had finally found a pretty little prey.
She started squirming in his lap in an overdrive of pleasure as she felt his beard against her soft neck and his hot kisses lapping her up. Her other arm tightened around her, holding her firmly in place, leaving no room for escape.
Her mindless struggles were hopeless against the brute holding her. He turned her face upwards and finally captured her lips in a searing kiss, knocking all breath out of her. His free hand meanwhile, explored every inch of her clothed body. But that was obviously not enough for the beast that had awakened within him.
All the anger, guilt, and helplessness that had haunted him for months — the chaos his country burning, the weight of choices he couldn’t undo, the nights spent holding himself together among enemies — now crashed over him at once. And it landed on her. She was the focal point of everything he couldn’t control, the tether through which his storm of emotions could be directed. In that instant, she was not just her own person — she was the symbol of his control, the anchor for the beast he had barely contained.
He got up with her still in his arms and he flipped her onto his rickety bed.
She laid there sprawled over helplessly, looking up at hin with eyes half full of fear and half of desire.
This was enough to make his last straw of restraint and logic snap into pieces.
He quite literally pounced upon her; his massive form engulfing hers as his impatient hands clawed at her clothes.
The flimsy barrier of a cloth between them was enough to make him lose all his patience.
He ripped the loose t-shirt that she had been wearing open with a savage yank, the sound ripping through the heavy breathing and gasps for her. Yalina gasped, her chest heaving as the cool air hit her exposed skin, her full breasts spilling free, nipples already hardening under his gaze. He didn't pause, his rough palms shoving the fabric aside before clamping down on her tits, squeezing hard enough to make her whimper and arch her back.
He growled against her ear, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her body. His fingers dug into her soft flesh, twisting her nipples until she cried out, a mix of pain and need flooding her senses. She squirmed beneath him, her legs parting instinctively as his weight pinned her to the mattress, the rickety bed creaking under their combined force.
He shifted, one hand trailing down her stomach, nails scraping lightly over her skin, leaving faint red lines in their wake. Yalina's breath hitched when he reached the waistband of her panties, hooking his fingers in and tearing it down her thighs in one brutal motion, shredded and discarded, leaving her bare and vulnerable under him.
He spread her legs wide with his knee, forcing them apart as his eyes locked on her glistening pussy, already wet from the rough handling.
He brought his face down near it, inhaling her scent. Yalina felt embarassment creep up her face and she hid herself by covering her face with her hands.
Hamza placed a swift slap on her glistening pussy, as if warning her to not cover her eyes.
He forcefully removed her hands by taking hold of both of her wrists and pulling them down, allowing him to see her flushed face, drunk on ecstasy.
Without warning, he plunged two thick fingers inside her, thrusting deep and hard, curling them to hit that spot that made her buck against his hand.
She let out a sharp yelp and looked at him with wide eyes.
He held her gaze in an intense eye contact as his fingers worked his magic inside her. She was knocked out of her breath by his sudden action, leaving her mouth open gasping for air as she looked at him with pleading eyes.
He snarled, pumping faster, his thumb grinding against her clit. Yalina moaned, her hands which were now imprisoned in his, clawed at his forearm, body trembling as pleasure coiled tight in her core. She was soaked, her juices coating his fingers, but he didn't let up, scissoring inside her to stretch her open.
He pulled his fingers out abruptly, bringing them to her lips.
He didn't say anything. He didn't need to as he shoved them into her mouth. Yalina obeyed, tasting herself on his skin, her tongue swirling around his digits as he watched with dark hunger.
Satisfied, he finally freed himself from his pants, his cock springing out, thick and veined, the head already leaking pre-cum. He gripped her hips, yanking her down the bed until her ass hung off the edge, then lined up and slammed into her in one forceful thrust.
Yalina screamed, the sudden fullness overwhelming her, his cock stretching her pussy to its limits. He didn't give her time to adjust, pulling back only to drive in deeper, harder, the bed frame groaning with each punishing stroke. His hands held her thighs spread wide, bruising her skin as he fucked her relentlessly, hips snapping forward like he was claiming every inch of her.
"Bolo....dobara hadein paar karne ki galti karogi?" he demanded between grunts, leaning down to bite her shoulder, teeth sinking in just enough to mark her. "Yalina"
"N...n..nahi" Yalina panted, her voice breaking as waves of ecstasy built inside her. Her nails raked down his back, urging him on even as tears pricked her eyes from the intensity. He rewarded her with a brutal thrust, grinding his pelvis against her clit, pushing her closer to the edge.
He flipped her over suddenly, face down on the mattress, ass up in the air. His palm cracked against her cheek, the slap echoing sharply, leaving a red handprint. "Hilna mat" he commanded, and she complied, as he positioned her to his desire. He entered her again from behind, one hand fisting her curly hair to pull her head back, arching her spine as he pounded into her pussy, balls slapping against her with every drive.
The anger poured out of him in each thrust, his helplessness forgotten in the grip of her body yielding to him. Yalina's cries filled the room, muffled by the pillow, her body shaking as orgasm ripped through her, walls clenching around his cock. He didn't stop, fucking her through it, chasing his own release until he buried himself deep and came, flooding her with hot spurts of cum.
Panting, he collapsed over her, still inside, his grip loosening but not releasing. "Good girl," he murmured, nipping her earlobe. "Yaad rakhna ye agli baar se."
But even as the storm subsided, he knew this was just the beginning—he wasn't done reminding her yet.
I'm so dumb...i forgot to add hashtags when I posted this🥲
Red on the Horizon
HamzaxYalina|NSFW|Minors Dni (don't interact)
Taglist: @bitchy-bi-trash @wannabefucko @gyatout @vampiredaisiesss @axxtxxym @ai-manre @strawbxx-blog @suburbanlegendzzzz
Authors note: Never written a smut for desi characters so forgive me for anything cringe that might follow lol.
Red.
That's all he could see that night.
He was left standing alone on the bridge after he confronted Alam on why the hell Indian agencies couldn't stop the disaster he saw unravelling just a few hours before.
The painfully beautiful silver light of the moon washed over him as his mind slipped into desolate darkness.
It felt like a mockery.
He watched his home burn. Hamza- or rather Jaskirat, watched his home burn while standing right among the fuckers who set it ablaze.
The memory of him handing the gun to Ajmal was playing over and over in his head like a broken record.
The guilt and the helplessness was choking him till he tried to drown it all in alcohol. But this wasn't really something you could forget with booze.
Hamza didn't realise when or how he ended up inside his dilapidated apartment, standing in front of a tear-streaked, fuming Yalina.
Through his blood red eyes he could see her standing in front of him, but all his mind registered was a blur of curly haired mess. It was like he could faintly make out someone was screaming in front of him, thumping his chest and crying...but his fogged up brain couldn't quite figure it out.
That was until a sharp slap ripped through his skin...making his ears ring. His eyes cleared, focusing on the girl in front of him.
The difference in their height made her attempt to hit him almost laughable...the slap barely stung him. However, somehow it was still enough to make his dark train of self loathing thoughts come to a screeching halt.
Somehow that weak slap made all the noise in his head collapse into a sudden, unbearable silence.
He could finally see her with clarity - tears blurring her pretty eyes which were now all puffed up and red, clearly from a night spent crying till there were no tears left. Her kajal flowed down her face and left dark streaks on her pale skin. Her curls were clinging to her damp face as she looked up at him with accusing eyes.
Hamza didn't quite hear what all she said so far but she was quite obviously distressed because of his overnight absence.
The momentary calm Hamza felt after the slap started to slip away as he felt his rage build up yet again within him. Of course Yalina couldn't even fathom just what exactly he went through, and of course he was the one who dragged her into this mess...but such logic still didn't help him keep his rage at bay. After all she was the daughter of the enemy nation.
But Hamza knew that no matter how many times he told himself she was just a pawn in his game, the warmth growing in his chest refused to be ignored. Even standing in the aftermath of a terrorist attack carried out by her nation against his own, he couldn’t bring himself to hate her.
That didn’t mean the rage wasn’t still there.
The rage wasn't because of her, he knew that well. It was because of himself, because of the stupidly cruel twist of fate that made him set his own country on fire - the very country he gave up everything for....and because he could feel himself slipping away under her gaze. He was a spy, he wasn't supposed to build emotional relations...not like this.
So despite knowing none of it was her fault, she felt like an easy target to release his frustrations upon.
Yalina saw the instant shift in Hamza's eyes. The previously hazy and unfocused pair of muddy green eyes were now trailed on her face with intensity enough to burn holes through her.
He took excruciatingly slow steps towards her, and she could feel her own legs stumble backwards with each step he took forward.
She kept stumbling backwards till she felt the wall bump into her. Hamza was now barely an inch from her. His locks of unruly but breathtakingly beautiful hair fell on her face as she could feel the heat emanating from him.
His hot breath fanned her face.
It's not like she wasn't used to this proximity. It had now been days since she had been living together with him in his prison like home, and they had done far more intimate things. However, none of them had felt this intense. The cold and menacing expression on Hamza's face, which on other days looked at her with such softness, felt like that of a stranger.
When Yalina got involved with him, she knew was a dangerous dangerous man, playing a dangerous game. And though she vaguely acknowledged the consequences she might face of falling in love with a man like him, her rebellious nature took it on as challange.
But now that she stood pressed between the wall and the massive, hard chest of this criminally dangerous man, she wasn't so sure if she was brave enough anymore.
She knew she had to leave right then and there. She knew that the wisest choice would be to bolt out of that open door, leaving this dark brooding man in his own world of chaos.
But she couldn't move her legs.
It was as if his gaze held her in place, stripping away every sensible thought she had left. He was too close now—close enough for her to feel the weight of everything he wasn’t saying. The rage, the grief, the control barely hanging on by a thread. She had no inkling of what he actually went through, but his eyes seemed to communicate his inner turmoil directly to her.
Running would have been smarter.
"Mujhe pure Karachi ka badshah banna hain."
His raspy voice rang in her ears, low and certain, sending an unwelcome shiver down her spine.
"Agar mere sath chal sakti ho to puri zindagi sirf tumhara haq rahega mujh par."
Silence stretched between them.
He didn’t move closer, didn’t need to. The weight of his words settled heavy in the air, pressing into her chest. His muddy green eyes held hers, dark and unwavering, as if daring her to look away first.
It wasn’t a promise whispered in weakness.
It was an offer made from a position of absolute control.
"Lekin iske baad tum mujhse koi sawal nahi karogi... Agar nahi, to samne darwaza khula hain."
Yalina gulped nervously.
The clear warning rang in her ears like siren. His voice was as calm as it could get, but the veins popping on his forehead and the clenched fists told her very clearly just how much restraint he was exercising.
Hamza could hear her shaky breath as she trembled from his threat. Looking at her wide uncertain eyes, scared of him, he almost felt bad for her...but he knew he had to. The path alongside him won't be easy. She would always be kept in the dark and she should know it before she agrees to be his. She should know that he isn't some gangster looking man for her rebellious urges, but an actual dangerous man; a man who could ruin her.
Yalina finally broke away from the chokehold his gaze had her in. She quietly slipped past him with slow and steady steps and stood before the door that was ajar. She stood for a second... For a brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine the peace that waited beyond his old apartment—untainted, uncomplicated, but also...
painfully empty.
Hamza let out a sigh, fully expecting her to leave. After all any girl in their right mind would right?
He didn’t stop her. Didn’t call out. Didn’t turn around.
He heard the click of the latch instead.
The door shut...in an act of defiance almost.
He turned then.
His eyes trained in her petite form as she walked back to him, chin lifted, eyes still glassy and red-rimmed from crying the whole night, but there was something sharp beneath the exhaustion now—resolve, edged with a smirk that didn’t quite soften the tension.
“Ajke baad,” she said quietly, almost lightly, “agar firse mujhe ghar se nikal jaane ki dhamki di”
Her fingers reached up, pushing his unruly hair back from his face, slow and intimate, as if testing the boundary he’d drawn.
“…toh main tumhe neend mein zinda jala dungi.”
Hamza realised he had been holding his breath in, waiting for words to tumble out of her soft lips. He knew that leaving his side would be the best course of action for her, but he couldn't help being a little selfish. He had given up on everything of his so far....and even though he got together with Yalina for his mission....he couldn't deny that she was what helped him hold onto his sanity as dwelled among his enemies.
He let her softly bring his head down to her level so that she could press a soft loving kiss to his forehead.
His arm instinctively wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as he breathed in her scent like it was a drug.
He let that momentary softness take over for a while. He let the moment breathe.
The kiss. The closeness. The quiet surrender she hadn’t even realised she’d offered.
Then he straightened.
He had allowed the softness — briefly, deliberately.
Not because he needed it, but because she did.
It was his way of quieting the tremor he could still feel in her, of acknowledging the night he had dragged her through without ever saying the words out loud.
But softness was never meant to linger.
She had crossed a line earlier.
Raised her hand at him.
And then, worse — chosen to stay.
That choice changed things.
Walking away would have kept her untouched by what he was. Staying meant learning how to exist in his world — a world that did not forgive defiance twice. He knew that if she stood beside him now, she had to understand the weight of it. Not later. Not gradually. Now.
He looked down at her then, really looked... not with anger, not with tenderness either, but with the cold clarity of a man who understood consequences better than most. If she was going to stand beside him now, she had to learn how to do it. Not as a rebellion. Not as an equal illusion.
"Yalina, main mazak nahi kar raha tha. Mere saath rehne ka matlab hoga meri har ek baat ka qubul karna..."
He hand came up to grip her face in a firm hold, forcing her to look up at him with those doe eyes of hers.
"Chahe Tumi pasand aay ya na aay..." He raised his brow ever so slightly, waiting for her affirmation.
Yalina swallowed hard and nodded faintly. Her heart raced violently in her chest. She was afraid — undeniably so — yet the realisation unsettled her more: some part of her wanted this. Needed it.
Hamza nodded and hummed in satisfaction as he pulled her flush against him. Yalina felt a tingle between her legs as his husky voice rumbled in her ears.
She blushed, realising her own body's response.
Hamza stroked his cheek, right where she had slapped. He smirked slightly, looking right at her with a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"Kaafi zor se mara tha..." He smirked looking at her flustered reaction as she realised what she had done before in the heat of the moment.
“Vo… main bas—” she stammered, the words dissolving on her tongue.
He watched her quietly, that faint curve at his lips still there, like he was letting her struggle on purpose — not out of cruelty, but control.
"Hmm.." he let out a grumble yet again, eliciting a similar reaction from her as before. All hair on her body stood up at his deliciously dangerous voice.
“Mujhe hadon ka khayal rakhna aata hai,” he said quietly.
“Aur jo had bhool jaaye… usey yaad dilana bhi.”
“Samjhi?”
Her breath hitched before she answered.
“Ji.”
The word trembled on her lips, carrying more than obedience. She knew exactly what was coming...the correction, the consequences, the inescapable weight of him claiming control.
And yet… part of her felt a strange, undeniable pull. A flutter of anticipation. Fear and desire tangled in her chest, sharp and thrilling. She was terrified, yes, but she was also… looking forward to it.
He leaned in just enough for her to feel him, not close enough to touch, not far enough to escape. His presence pressed into her space, overwhelming, intentional. She realised then that this wasn’t anger anymore — it was control. And control, in Hamza’s world, always came with consequences.
He didn’t give her a chance to think, to react. In one smooth motion, he lifted her, the strength in his arms absolute yet measured. She was suspended for a heartbeat, weightless and utterly at his mercy.
Then he settled her on the bed, letting her legs drape across his lap; with an unmistakable claim on his woman. Her back rested against his chest, and his arms circled her, securing her there.
There was no escaping him now. Every breath she took pressed against him, every pulse felt against the rhythm of his own heartbeat. She was caged within him, and the weight of that control, that inevitability, pressed down with a delicious, terrifying clarity.
He let a slow exhale escape, brushing her hair back from her face, and the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. Not teasing. Not playful. Just certainty. She was his for this moment — and the moment, he decided, was his to command.
Yalina's heavy breathing could now be heard clearly in the otherwise silent apartment, against the faint hubbub of the world outside... which couldn't matter less to either of them at this moment.
Because for now, there were the only two people who existed in this world.
Yalina could hear her own heartbeat as she sat trapped against this massive man of hers. One of his hands held her face in place, tilted to an angle of his liking as he brought down his lips against her pale exposed neck. The way he lapped at her neck was akin to that of a beast who had been hungry for days and had finally found a pretty little prey.
She started squirming in his lap in an overdrive of pleasure as she felt his beard against her soft neck and his hot kisses lapping her up. Her other arm tightened around her, holding her firmly in place, leaving no room for escape.
Her mindless struggles were hopeless against the brute holding her. He turned her face upwards and finally captured her lips in a searing kiss, knocking all breath out of her. His free hand meanwhile, explored every inch of her clothed body. But that was obviously not enough for the beast that had awakened within him.
All the anger, guilt, and helplessness that had haunted him for months — the chaos his country burning, the weight of choices he couldn’t undo, the nights spent holding himself together among enemies — now crashed over him at once. And it landed on her. She was the focal point of everything he couldn’t control, the tether through which his storm of emotions could be directed. In that instant, she was not just her own person — she was the symbol of his control, the anchor for the beast he had barely contained.
He got up with her still in his arms and he flipped her onto his rickety bed.
She laid there sprawled over helplessly, looking up at hin with eyes half full of fear and half of desire.
This was enough to make his last straw of restraint and logic snap into pieces.
He quite literally pounced upon her; his massive form engulfing hers as his impatient hands clawed at her clothes.
The flimsy barrier of a cloth between them was enough to make him lose all his patience.
He ripped the loose t-shirt that she had been wearing open with a savage yank, the sound ripping through the heavy breathing and gasps for her. Yalina gasped, her chest heaving as the cool air hit her exposed skin, her full breasts spilling free, nipples already hardening under his gaze. He didn't pause, his rough palms shoving the fabric aside before clamping down on her tits, squeezing hard enough to make her whimper and arch her back.
He growled against her ear, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her body. His fingers dug into her soft flesh, twisting her nipples until she cried out, a mix of pain and need flooding her senses. She squirmed beneath him, her legs parting instinctively as his weight pinned her to the mattress, the rickety bed creaking under their combined force.
He shifted, one hand trailing down her stomach, nails scraping lightly over her skin, leaving faint red lines in their wake. Yalina's breath hitched when he reached the waistband of her panties, hooking his fingers in and tearing it down her thighs in one brutal motion, shredded and discarded, leaving her bare and vulnerable under him.
He spread her legs wide with his knee, forcing them apart as his eyes locked on her glistening pussy, already wet from the rough handling.
He brought his face down near it, inhaling her scent. Yalina felt embarassment creep up her face and she hid herself by covering her face with her hands.
Hamza placed a swift slap on her glistening pussy, as if warning her to not cover her eyes.
He forcefully removed her hands by taking hold of both of her wrists and pulling them down, allowing him to see her flushed face, drunk on ecstasy.
Without warning, he plunged two thick fingers inside her, thrusting deep and hard, curling them to hit that spot that made her buck against his hand.
She let out a sharp yelp and looked at him with wide eyes.
He held her gaze in an intense eye contact as his fingers worked his magic inside her. She was knocked out of her breath by his sudden action, leaving her mouth open gasping for air as she looked at him with pleading eyes.
He snarled, pumping faster, his thumb grinding against her clit. Yalina moaned, her hands which were now imprisoned in his, clawed at his forearm, body trembling as pleasure coiled tight in her core. She was soaked, her juices coating his fingers, but he didn't let up, scissoring inside her to stretch her open.
He pulled his fingers out abruptly, bringing them to her lips.
He didn't say anything. He didn't need to as he shoved them into her mouth. Yalina obeyed, tasting herself on his skin, her tongue swirling around his digits as he watched with dark hunger.
Satisfied, he finally freed himself from his pants, his cock springing out, thick and veined, the head already leaking pre-cum. He gripped her hips, yanking her down the bed until her ass hung off the edge, then lined up and slammed into her in one forceful thrust.
Yalina screamed, the sudden fullness overwhelming her, his cock stretching her pussy to its limits. He didn't give her time to adjust, pulling back only to drive in deeper, harder, the bed frame groaning with each punishing stroke. His hands held her thighs spread wide, bruising her skin as he fucked her relentlessly, hips snapping forward like he was claiming every inch of her.
"Bolo....dobara hadein paar karne ki galti karogi?" he demanded between grunts, leaning down to bite her shoulder, teeth sinking in just enough to mark her. "Yalina"
"N...n..nahi" Yalina panted, her voice breaking as waves of ecstasy built inside her. Her nails raked down his back, urging him on even as tears pricked her eyes from the intensity. He rewarded her with a brutal thrust, grinding his pelvis against her clit, pushing her closer to the edge.
He flipped her over suddenly, face down on the mattress, ass up in the air. His palm cracked against her cheek, the slap echoing sharply, leaving a red handprint. "Hilna mat" he commanded, and she complied, as he positioned her to his desire. He entered her again from behind, one hand fisting her curly hair to pull her head back, arching her spine as he pounded into her pussy, balls slapping against her with every drive.
The anger poured out of him in each thrust, his helplessness forgotten in the grip of her body yielding to him. Yalina's cries filled the room, muffled by the pillow, her body shaking as orgasm ripped through her, walls clenching around his cock. He didn't stop, fucking her through it, chasing his own release until he buried himself deep and came, flooding her with hot spurts of cum.
Panting, he collapsed over her, still inside, his grip loosening but not releasing. "Good girl," he murmured, nipping her earlobe. "Yaad rakhna ye agli baar se."
But even as the storm subsided, he knew this was just the beginning—he wasn't done reminding her yet.
Am I the only one who feels there is a serious lack of fanfics on dhurandhar??? Soo many delicious characters!! Where are my dark romance girlies at?!?
Speaking of which....am writing one of my own yk 👀🫦
Ranveer Singh & Sara Arjun in Dhurandhar (2025) directed by Aditya Dhar
The lyricists of Gehra Hua ate with these lyrics fr.
“Palke Jhapakta hai aasman, laakhon farishton ki hai tu jaan! Vo puchtein hai rehti kaha? Meri baahon me rehti unko bata!”
THIS.
I cannot get this out of my head.
I NEED MORE PEOPLE TO RELATE TO ME LOSING MY MIND OVER THIS PART OF THE SONG
more i think about it, dhurandhar's extraordinary box office and cultural success makes me even the more proud.
before the movie every single PR attack was launched against the film and its actors. people tried to ban the movie, malign it, didn't give any industry support. hell, even after release, only big superstars of india to fully support it have been akshay kumar and allu arjun with hrithik roshan even refusing to stand by it's message in his review.
but now look; a movie led by 5 actors who had been written off, a kashmiri pandit director and writer, with gore and violence, banned in pakistan and every gulf country, has shattered the cultural stratosphere simply because it is an expose of a dark truth that pakistan has tried to bury and bollywood/india have helped to do so with their own cowardice.
and even now people are trying to slam the film as being anti-muslim, islamophobic, etc. etc. which is even more funny because what was the propaganda? that every modern terrorist attack leads back to pakistani gangs, politicians, army, and mafia? that 26/11 happened???
no more now. dhurandhar is unapologetic. it asks indians to remember what we have been through. it asks indians to realize what our neighbors feel about us. and it asks indians to not forget the unknown men and women who give their lives for our country.
an absolute cinematic masterpiece backed by one of the best soundtracks in bollywood history. aditya dhar is the answer to decades of bollywood brainwashing and those who think peace can be an option for terrorists. may we never forget.
RANVEER SINGH in DHURANDHAR (2025)
Ranveer Singh in Dhurandhar (2025) directed by Aditya Dhar
Just watched dhurandhar. Already miss my pookie hamza jaskirat singh rangi😭😭
