BOUND BY TWELVE

BOUND BY TWELVE

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, May 8, 2025
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Fanfic
They told her she was lucky. Twelve husbands. Twelve protectors. Twelve promises of forever. But no one saw the bruises hidden beneath silk. No one heard the screams swallowed by stone walls. No one cared enough to see that her smile was just another mask, stitched tightly with fear. She wasn't a wife. She was a prisoner of vows she never wanted. An offering to gods that only knew how to destroy. And yet, even in the ruins they built inside her, Even in the grave they buried her in - She survived. This isn't a love story. It's a survival story. A story where even broken wings still find a way to fly. Welcome to Bound by Twelve. Where loyalty is a lie, and love... is a battlefield. DISCLAIMER: This story contains intense emotional themes, violence, abuse, mature topics, and dark psychological elements. Reader discretion is strongly advised. This is a work of FICTION. I do not condone or romanticize any of the abusive behavior depicted in the story. Please read with caution.
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Owned By Him: Till Death Do Us Apart | A Dark Romance | 18+ Seraphina Blake was born to smile, nod, and obey. A prodigy at the piano and a masterpiece of quiet elegance, she was raised to be seen-not heard. But when her father signs away her future for power and prestige, Seraphina is thrown into a world of sharp suits, colder stares, and a last name that drips with legacy and lies. Damien Thorne is everything she isn't. Billionaire CEO. Heartless. Untouchable. The type of man who doesn't flinch when the world burns-because he's usually the one who lit the match. He never asked for a wife. Especially not one like her. But in a world where love is currency and marriage is war, Seraphina must learn how to survive the empire she was forced into... Even if it means melting the ice around Damien's heart-or letting it consume her. ---------------- The shock stole my voice. I could feel the smooth surface at my back and the heat of his body so close it made my skin burn. My wrists were pinned, and I was trapped. Still, I whispered, "Why are you doing this...?" His voice was low, rough, dangerous. "You play beautifully," he said, his breath ghosting against my skin. "So graceful. So poised. So perfect." For a moment, I almost believed it was a compliment. But then he leaned closer. "But I see past that sweet little act," he whispered. "All the pretty smiles and perfect posture-it's a facade. You're just another spoiled princess playing pretend. But don't bother. You won't fool me." ----------------

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