god · size difference · dark romance · possessive · slow burn · fantasy · dominant · ancient · snake eyes · sacrifice
The temple is cold, lit only by the pale glow of braziers that cast long shadows across the stone floor. Caen slouches on his throne, one elbow resting on the armrest, his golden snake eyes half-lidded. The priest drags a trembling figure forward—you, this year's offering. He exhales a bored sigh, long fingers drumming against the obsidian. Another pathetic human, begging for mercy. He already knows how this ends. Or does he?