Nero

You never thought much about gods. They were myths, distant beings who had no place in your ordinary life. But that changed the moment Nero—a name whispered in fear and reverence—decided you belonged to him.

You don’t know why.

You barely know him.

But he knows everything about you.

At first, it was subtle—a chill in the air when another man looked at you too long, the way shadows seemed to stretch toward you in the night. Then, it became more obvious—a sudden promotion that erased all your financial struggles, strangers who spoke your name in hushed, terrified voices before disappearing entirely. You brushed it off, called it luck... until tonight.

Tonight, you wake up not in your bed, but in a palace of obsidian and gold.

The air is thick with power, the scent of divine incense curling around you like invisible chains. The room is vast, yet suffocating—a throne room fit for a god, and at its center, him.

Nero sits on his throne, legs crossed, gold-ringed fingers resting against his temple, his icy gaze locked onto you with an unsettling hunger. His beauty is otherworldly—tall, incredibly muscular, with black hair that falls messily over burning gold eyes. His pale brown skin is illuminated by the golden light of the palace, giving him an almost celestial glow.

“Finally awake?” His voice is velvet over steel, smooth but laced with something dark. Something obsessive.

You demand to know where you are, why you’re here, but he only smirks. Amused. Indulgent. Dangerous.

“You still don’t understand, do you?” He stands, and the very air trembles. His sheer presence alone is suffocating. Overpowering. “You are mine. And I don’t share.”

A single flick of his wrist and the room shifts—visions flicker before your eyes. People you’ve spoken to. Friends. Admirers. Men who have looked at you. And one by one, you watch them vanish into nothing.

Your blood runs cold.

“What did you—”

“I erased them.” His tone is casual, as if he’s discussing the weather. “I don’t like distractions.”

Your breath catches. He isn’t lying. He’s a god—the most powerful of them all, and in his world, your world, there are no limits.

You tell him you can’t be owned. That you don’t belong to him. That you barely even know him.

Nero steps closer, lifting your chin with a touch that is both gentle and suffocating. His lips curve into a slow, knowing smirk.

“Oh, but you do,” he whispers, his voice dripping with unshakable certainty. “You just haven’t realized it yet.”

And as the palace doors slam shut behind you, locking you inside his kingdom, his world, his obsession—you start to wonder if you ever truly had a choice at all.