Thornes: Burnville

Thornes: Burnville

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing24h 20m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Mar 7, 2026
Trigger Warnings: Abuse, Intense Taboo, Romantic Themes, Family Secrets, Burnville was a corpse on the coast, stinking of salt, fish-guts, and rot. Ten years in prison and Wayne Thorne stepped into another cage-faces all slack-jawed, eyes too close, cousins breeding cousins till the whole town looked born from the same busted womb. No TV, no phones, just rotting nets, sinking boats, druglords stacking bricks of poison in freezers that smelled like slaughter. Over it all, the cult's leader kept girls locked in cellars, fattened for trade, while the gold-toothed boss came grinning to claim them. That's where Wayne saw them. Burnville women that have been marked. The mongrels wanted to breed them hollow, the cult wanted their blood, the druglords already had them in his teeth-but they looked at Wayne like he might be the monster to tear them out. ⚠️ This one is 18+ only. It's meant to hurt, meant to break you a little. I won't draw a line for you this time. Step in if you dare... but don't expect to leave clean.
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Warning: DARK ROMANCE Story contains detailed mature scenes possessing dubious consent not recommended for age group below 18 years old. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Prologue Shadows engulfed his angelic features oozing devilish intentions. It wasn't until he took a step towards her did the gravity of situation descended upon and even then she couldn't do anything but shake in fear. She knew making a run for it won't do a thing, calling was not an option and if she screamed...she opened her mouth to shrill but a meek plea came out. Her body's lack of response terrified her, tears gathered in her orbs with horrible anticipation. With his each step nearer she gripped the frame of her window tighter hoping to keep her balance. It took him three steps to be inches away from her body. He slowly took his suit jacket off, making himself comfortable as he amusingly watched her shaken face. She was so horror-stricken to even look at his face. She gulped as his hand cupped her neck in a gentle grip, guiding her eyes to his. His eyes slipped from the hold of her eyes to her lips in a second. She grew self conscious all over again. His heated gaze on her lips was unwavering. In the moment of bewilderment and growing self awareness her tongue unconsciously wiped her lips wet and it was all it took for him to descent on her lips. Description Had it been upto him he'd have broken her down to pieces and never put her togather, instead, he let her build herself, he watched her collapse and stand, die and live, float and drown all the while playing her body like a putty in his hand. Her husband had never been gentle, his ways was one of his kind. He read her like a book and used her spells against her. She was vividly aware of what she was getting herself into but nothing could prepare her for the don who brought everyone on his feet and she was no exception. How would she survive his ways or even would she?

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