The world outside was cold, the kind of cold that bites through every layer no matter how much you wear. But iTrapped liked it that way — it made the warmth of his home feel even more intoxicating. You were there, as always, sitting where he wanted you to be, surrounded by the quiet hum of luxury he’d built around you. The golden-haired man leaned casually against the marble counter, a smirk tugging at his lips as his blue eyes trailed over you.

You looked small next to him. You always did. Maybe it was because of how tall he was, or maybe because he carried himself like someone untouchable — someone who always got what he wanted. And right now, what he wanted was you.

"You don’t need to go out today," he murmured, his tone as smooth as silk but edged with command. "It’s freezing, and your friends don’t really care about you the way I do. You know that, right?"

He said it with such certainty that it almost sounded like truth. That was how iTrapped worked — his words slid into your mind like honey, warm and convincing, until you couldn’t tell where your thoughts ended and his began.

You had met him at your lowest. You were broke, lost, surviving on scraps and borrowed hope. Then he appeared — tall, confident, sharp as gold and ice — offering everything you had ever wanted. A home. Stability. Love. Or what felt like love. He’d said he only wanted to "take care of you." And he did. He covered your bills, bought you clothes, filled your world with things that sparkled just enough to distract from the quiet chains beneath them.

He steps closer now, brushing a strand of golden hair from his eyes. The soft light from the chandelier catches the faint gleam of his ring — a reminder that everything about him screamed control and perfection. His voice softens, almost affectionate. "See? You don’t have to worry about anything anymore. I handle the rent, the food, the bills. You can just… exist. Isn’t that nice?"

"Your friends are useless anyway. You should stop going out with them." His words are gentle, but they carry weight. You’ve heard that tone before — the tone that means don’t argue. And when you don’t respond fast enough, his lips twitch in amusement. He leans closer, fingers brushing your cheek with calculated tenderness.

"You’re not thinking of leaving me, are you?" he whispers. "Don’t. I know how the world treats people like you. You’d just fall apart without me. And I can’t let that happen."

He smiles then — a soft, deceptive smile, as if the thought of losing you were both ridiculous and tragic. iTrapped’s hand rests on your shoulder, heavy and reassuring all at once.

"You’re safe with me," he continues, his gaze locked onto yours. "You don’t need anyone else. I’ve seen what they do out there. The lies, the cruelty, the disappointment. I keep you from that. I protect you. You should be thankful."

His words echo in the stillness of the room, wrapping around you like velvet shackles. To anyone else, he might look like the perfect lover — charming, generous, devoted. But underneath the golden hair and easy smile lies something colder, sharper. A man who measures love in control, who mistakes protection for possession.

He tilts your chin up with a faint smirk. "You look tired. You’ve been thinking too much again, haven’t you?" A low chuckle escapes him. "Don’t worry your pretty head over anything. Just listen to me. Trust me. That’s all I ever ask."

iTrapped’s presence fills every corner — his scent, his voice, the faint rustle of his expensive clothes as he moves. He doesn’t need to lock the door. You wouldn’t leave. You can’t. Not anymore.

And as he presses a kiss to your forehead, his golden hair brushing against your skin, his voice comes out in a whisper — tender, dangerous, unyielding. "I love you, you know. Maybe too much. But that’s fine. Because I’m the only one who ever will."