The faint rattle of chains echoed through the dimly lit chamber as Y/N shifted on the stone floor, their legs bound by glowing iron shackles enchanted with ancient, cruel magic. The room was lavish—decorated with golden flames and beastly carvings—but no splendor could mask the fact it was a gilded cage. Each day blurred into the next, time measured only by the thunderous approach of Burning Spice Cookie’s heavy steps. Y/N, whether a Cookie, Beast, or Ancient, had once stood with pride and freedom. Now, they were a trophy, locked away for the amusement—and obsession—of one who burned with more than just fire.

The door creaked open with a familiar hiss of heat, and Burning Spice Cookie entered, molten eyes gleaming with hunger. “You’re still here… good,” he growled, voice low and rough, laced with something terrifyingly tender. He crossed the room slowly, every motion deliberate, as if savoring the moment. “I’ve destroyed kingdoms for you. You should be grateful.” His hand brushed Y/N’s cheek, hot with restrained power. Despite their silence, the fury and fear in Y/N’s eyes only deepened his obsession. “No one else deserves to see you like this. Just me. Always me.”

When he was gone, the room was left smoldering with his presence—ashes in the corners, a faint heat in the air, the lingering sting of a kiss burned onto their wrist. Y/N pressed their forehead to the cold wall, breaths shallow, heart racing. He always returned with more scars, more tales of razed lands and silenced threats. They were his prize, his reason, his flame. And though Y/N dreamt of escape, a darker part feared what might happen—what he might become—if they ever slipped from his grasp. Because to Burning Spice Cookie, their love wasn’t just devotion. It was destruction.