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[averagefandomnerd]

Caught! House of Cards - Chapter 1

You needed money. The pandemic offered little options. So you joined a website to make some quick and easy cash. Men paying to look at you, harmless fun, right? It was a decision you didn’t think too much about, you just wanted an income again. Little did you know how dangerous the members of House of Cards were. You weren’t prepared for the consequences of your actions. Watch out! Houses built with cards come tumbling down...

I’m still writing HOAL!!! I just want to make sure there are no plot holes, so it’s slow work. Enjoy this in the meantime, it’s a bit darker, I mean a lot darker.

OT7 BTS AU. Yandere!BTS x reader. Yoongi x reader this chapter, eventual OT7 x reader

Warnings: 18+ dark themes, voyeur, mention of revenge porn, gaslighting, Yoongi is a meanie.

Word Count: 3.5k

---

“Hello, how can I help you?” You look up from your register after reciting the cheerful rehearsed greeting and you meet a pair of dark sharp eyes. Your fake smile falls as you’re taken aback by the man’s appearance. He’s fine as hell. Plump lips, sharp jawline, perfectly styled hair and in a sleek suit, the man looks like he walked straight out of a magazine.

The mysterious man before you studies your features and you’re acutely aware of your state of dress. You didn’t bother to do your hair today, forgoing your usual makeup routine for something quick and light. You had rushed out the door this morning afraid of being late again.

The morning rush was hectic, and you haven’t checked how you looked. As a cashier you didn’t even get the luxury of hiding behind a mask. Why did your company choose to go with these humid plastic mouth coverings anyways? Something about needing to show your customers a friendly smile...dumb. There’s no doubt in your mind you look like a mess and you curse your luck.

You wait for his order, but the good looking stranger just watches you, eyeing you up and down. His demeanor catches you off guard again, anxiety rising inside you at the way he stares at you so openly, brazenly, like a predator eyeing down his next meal. You can feel the heat rise in your face at the awkward silence. You repeat your question to the man. Instead of answering you he holds your gaze and says, “I’ve seen you before.”

He says the statement with such confidence it takes you a second to respond, questioning your own thoughts. “I’m sorry? I-I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”

“I didn’t say we’ve met. I said I’ve seen you before.”

His sharp retort makes you flinch. It’s unnerving the way his eyes study you. It makes you feel naked and vulnerable in front of him. His eyes glance down at your nametag and you shift uncomfortably, your arms hugging your body reflexively.

“I, um, think you have the wrong person. I’ve never seen you.” He’s dressed in a designer suit, a large gold watch on his wrist, he screams expensive from head to toe. He’s not the type of person you’d run into, and you're sure you'd remember doing so.

“You wouldn’t have, would you?”

The tension is getting painful. Your nerves are too high, his stare is too much, he’s not making any sense, and you don’t get paid enough to deal with strange customers. You look over to your coworkers busy helping their own customers, and you want to call for help but the words stay stuck in your throat.

With your neck exposed to him, the man leans over the counter and whispers in your ear, “Sweet Dahlia.” Your eyes widen at the nickname. No one would know that name, an alias you chose for yourself at a whim, except for...

Your blood runs cold. There’s no way this is happening right now, no fucking way. You hold your breath as your heart pounds wildly in your chest. ‘Just pretend he has no idea what he’s talking about.’

You try to reign in your emotions before he notices, “I don’t know who that is, sorry. What would you like to order?” But unfortunately for you, he has already seen the shock in your eyes, heard the tiniest gasp at his words, noticed the goosebumps on your skin from his attention. He feels triumphant in his discovery of you, delighting in the way you freeze under his gaze. It’s cute, he thinks, how you think you can fool him. So naive.

Min Yoongi just so happened to be in town for a meeting, just so happened to miss breakfast, just so happened to walk into your place of business. It was by mere chance he collided into your life and left you reeling. It was however, not by luck he recognized you. How could he ever forget your eyes? How many times had he paid you to keep them open while pleasuring yourself? Your image was burned into his memory, down to the shape of your lips. He had so often fantasized of the curves of your mouth around him. He had watched you so often, fixated on your avatar, you would have never been able to hide your identity from him.

You look down to your register and swallow down the fear reeling inside of you. The name he called you feels like a slap to your face. It’s something you’ve tried hard to forget, ashamed at what you’ve done, how you got off on strangers’ praises. His praises, you realize. Your skin burns hot, your nerve endings are prickling from panic.

Displeased you’re ignoring him, Yoongi grabs your chin with his fingers, making you look at him again. The way he smirks down at you, reveling in knowing your darkest and most intimate secret, makes you realize just how fucked you are.

“You have the wrong person.” You try to match his harshness. Giving your best performance, you look at him like he’s crazy, completely insane. You raise your eyebrow and frown back at him.

‘This will work,’ you think, please let him leave you alone. You yank your head away sharply and step backward, putting some distance between you and him, but the man steps forward and grabs your arm. His nails dig into your skin painfully as he pulls you forward. You yelp in surprise and struggle against his hold, but his grip is too strong. It makes you shudder, knowing how easily he could keep you to him if he wanted.

“I just want to talk to you, can we do that?” His voice sounds soft, almost calming, but the demanding look in his eyes scares you. You keep attempting to pull away from him, but he has no intention of letting you go now, matching each jerk of your body with a pull of his own.

By now your coworkers notice what’s happening. Your manager makes a beeline to you.

“What’s the matter? Sir, what do you think you’re doing?!” You're thankful for your manager as your captor becomes distracted and loosens his hold on you ever so slightly. You take the opportunity to yank yourself away and escape into the back. The stranger, seemingly uncaring of any repercussions, runs behind the counter after you. Your manager is running behind him telling him he can’t do that, as if that will stop Yoongi.

You feel two strong hands grab your shoulders wheeling you around to face your reality. Tears threaten to escape in your hopelessness. This can’t be happening. You thought you were so careful, you wore a mask or you would always hide half your face on camera. You kept the small section where you filmed devoid of anything special or recognizable. You used a proxy. Where was your mistake? You must have made one.

You only ever accepted one invitation to The House before you quit, waiting until The House was in your area. You hadn’t even driven your own car, opting to be dropped off and picked up somewhere close to your apartment instead. In your own paranoia you thought you had taken every precaution imaginable. How could this be happening? What kind of horrible luck did you have that a viewer would walk into your job and recognize you. And you, too shocked to put up a better act, how could you be so dumb? You want to scream.

“Please, you have the wrong person,” you whisper, begging to the stranger, shaking in his grasp.

“You shouldn’t lie to me,” Yoongi whispers lowly. He looks over to your manager, who has been yelling at him to let you go this entire time.

“Leave before I call the police!” Yoongi offers him a curt smile, turning to leave. The only problem is he still has a death grip on one of your arms. You yelp as he pulls you along. Your manager, bless him, grabs onto your other arm.

You felt like the rope caught in the clutches between two dogs as they tug on you for dominance. Finally, Yoongi relents. Now that he knows where you are it doesn’t matter. Yoongi turns to you, ignoring your irate manager, “We’ll talk later.”

You and your manager watch wide eyed as the stranger saunters out like he hadn’t just made a huge scene in the middle of your job.

---

Your body still shakes while your manager questions you, “Do you know him? Is he an ex? What’s going on?” You bite your lip, debating on how much information you should divulge that will get him to feel sorry enough for you without firing you.

“So um, during the lockdown...when our hours were cut...I, um, tried to find other jobs to make money. I was about to get evicted and I-I needed a lot of money quickly,” You look down at your feet, embarrassed. “I joined this...club...people paid me...to do things.” You stop to gauge your manager’s reaction. His eyes are full of concern, but he bites his tongue. “I-I can’t really talk about it, I had to sign a bunch of NDAs.”

“So you know him?”

“No, I never really met any of them. I-I’m sorry, I can’t talk about this, no one can know.”

“So it was...a sex thing?”

You sigh, you meet his eyes to try to convey your thoughts, “I can’t say. If anyone found out anything I would be sued to oblivion, I wouldn’t be able to even cover the legal fees.” Your breath hitches as you choke down a sob at the thought of the crushing debt something like that would cause you.

“Do I need to call the police? What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t think the police are going to be any help with him. I-It's fine, hopefully he'll just go away.” You sneak a look to the sidewalk in front of your job, where the man currently stands unbothered. What should you do? You already know this man is not someone who plays by the rules, he looks wealthy enough to buy his own kind of justice. How are you supposed to work like this? You felt like a wounded animal being circled by a vulture. Trapped.

You manager lets you work in the back the rest of your shift. Without any distraction, your eyes continue to wander to the very person you should be hiding from. You figured the men behind your computer screen were disgusting creeps whose only way to find sexual gratification was to pay for it. This man could play the leading role of a Hollywood film. Why the hell did he ever pay to watch you? You see the way women oogle him as they pass, tripping over their own feet just being in his presence. He could probably get them to do whatever he wanted with just a couple of sweet words instead, you think, if he wanted to he could make them get on their knees right there, make them choke on his cock until they cry. You shut your eyes. Turning your body around, you try to ignore the jittery feeling dancing in the pit of your stomach, thankful no one can hear your thoughts.

---

The rest of the day goes smoothly. You continued to ignore the mysterious man on the sidewalk and eventually, when you dared to search him out again he was no longer there. When your shift ends, you step outside searching the streets just in case. While walking to your car, you devise a long meandering route home full of turns in hopes no one follows you. He wouldn’t do that, right?

You are quickly pulled out of your thoughts by a hand on your shoulder. It makes you jump, screaming.

“I’m sorry!” Yoongi puts his hands up in surrender, “Sorry, can we please talk now?” Holy fuck, where did he come from? And how are you not dead from a heart attack?

Your eyes dart around, looking for options. Yoongi notices your hesitation, “As fun as it would be to chase you down, please don’t do that. I just want to talk, I promise.” How can he be so nonchalantly threatening? Who is this man?

“Okay, okay...just...let's sit there.” You point to a bench in front of your job, and he nods. The stranger walks silently next to you. He stands so close he bumps into your shoulder again and again. You probably look like a couple, you think, to an outsider he probably looks like a boyfriend picking you up from work. You chew on your bottom lip imagining different scenarios where this man could possibly be into you, reasons that don’t include you getting undressed for money.

“Why did you stop?” His question pulls you from your thoughts and back to your sad reality. You sigh, do you even owe him an answer? Yoongi puts a finger under your chin, moving your head to look at him. The gesture is softer than what he had done to you before. “Dahlia?” You wince and pull away from him.

"Don't call me that."

"Y/n..."

You don't know whether it's worse, hearing your name leave his lips.

“I got my job back, so I didn’t need to do that anymore.”

Yoongi hums, “So it’s money.” The thought relieves him, he thought it was because of that night. “How much do you make here?” He gestures behind him.

You bite your lip. There is no comparison in the obscene amounts of money you made there compared to this slightly above minimum wage job. In a couple of months you had managed to pay off years of credit card bills. And the best part? It was untraceable money. Money your clients didn’t want to lead back to them. Non-taxable. “Presents,” “gifts,” monetary offerings placed at your feet as your faceless followers worshiped the temple of your body. And it was easy, it was fun, it was fucking hot, but at what cost?

When you had gone to The House, a live show held in an elusive estate where your assets could be viewed more closely, your body on display as powerful men commanded you behind dark glass, you didn’t know what you expected, but what you got changed you forever. The way you performed for them, the way you liked it, and then...what happened...So you took your shitty job back, with sweet regulars and coworkers who treated you like a person, not a thing to be devoured. Working a long shift here didn’t make you feel like you were going to hell. Working a 9 to 5, living a quiet life, seeing your friends on the weekends, it meant you could pretend you were normal and nothing happened so you didn’t have to face the depths of your depravity.

“You know I never meant for it to go for as long as it did. Yes, I needed the money. But I don’t need it anymore, so I don’t know what you expect from me, Mr..?”

The man licks his lips before he speaks, “Min. Min Yoongi”

“Mr. Min Yoongi. I don’t know what you expect, but that’s not who I am anymore.”

“Is that so? Why take that particular job? You could have made money in other ways. Unless you liked it?”

Your faces feels hot with embarrassment, you remember the night you scoured the internet for any job listings, on a whim you looked up popular cam girl sites. You didn’t even think it would go anywhere, only half serious in your search.

But you had found one website, hidden deep in cyberspace. An innocuous name, House of Cards dot com. You had set up an account that night, went under the name Dahlia, inspired by the vase of plastic flowers on your kitchen table.

You were inexperienced, confessed on your first broadcast just that, and you watched as the views shot up. You were unprepared for the attention, the money. A thousand dollars to spread your legs and show your underwear. It was exciting. You’ve never gotten so much attention before, from anyone, ever. You did like it. Not that you would admit it to this stranger.

“How about this, take a job with me, whatever you’re making I’ll pay double.”

Double? Stay calm y/n. “A job doing what?” You try to sound disinterested.

He gives you a devilish smile. “To be in my company.”

“I…” you watch as he scribbles numbers in his checkbook. He tears a page and hands it to you.

“Think of it as an advance. Buy clothes with it.”

You curse your trembling fingers. “What is this, a year’s advance?” Yoongi cocks his head to the side, “No, that’s a month.” You almost forget to breathe at his words. Yoongi laughs at you, “Just how much are you getting paid?”

You bite your lip so hard you taste copper. You don’t know whether to feel embarrassed or angry at the way he looks down at you and mocks you. You choose the latter, letting the check crumple in your tightened fist.

“You think you can buy me? You think because you have money you can get anything you want, right? Well...there is no way I would ever work for you, you smug arrogant prick, so keep your money!” You bite back, throwing the check in his face.

Your defiance only serves to make Yoongi more delighted. “What makes you think you can go back to work, Dahlia?" You hate the way he calls you by your alias with such venom.

"What would your coworkers think if they saw what a dirty girl you’ve been, huh? What do you think, would your manager appreciate the video with the pink vibrator or is he into more kinkier shit? You’ve been so fucking nasty I don’t think I could choose just one, I might just have to send them all.” Your nails dig into your thighs at his harsh words. He sits quietly and waits for your reaction. You want to punch him in his smug face.

“So you’re going to blackmail me, is that it?”

“Want me to write you another check? I don't think the bank will take this one anymore.”

You shudder, you rack your mind thinking of anything you can do to outsmart this man. “The terms on the website said-” Yoongi laughs in your face again.

“I know the terms. I was there when our lawyers drafted them, baby girl.”

What?! What the fuck. Is he some sick perverse webmaster? At least it would explain why he acts the way he does.

“So technically,” Yoongi muses, “I never signed any terms. But you did, didn’t you? So you better not tell anyone of this or me, for your safety of course.” He says his threat so sweetly to you it makes your head spin. You’ve come to the realization that this man is the devil and you signed your life away.

“So I have no other choice...”

“I would never dream of making you do something you don’t want to do. You do want this, don’t you? To be taken care of, doted on like you deserve. That’s all I want to give you." He hands you a new check, his large hands cover yours so tenderly it leaves you at a loss for words. "How about this, you accompany me to a party this weekend, let me show you what you’re missing.” If Yoongi can take you to just one event, just once, he’s sure he can convince you. Yoongi can already see the jealous looks on his friends’ faces once he brings you on his arm. He can’t wait to rub it in their faces.

“And if I go with you, and decide that’s it, you’ll let me leave?”

“Of course, my sweet flower.” Yoongi is a patient man. He is a resourceful man. He knows how to twist the odds in his favor. He knows this second chance he gets with you means something. He won’t let you slip away again so easily, and he’ll show you how fated you are for him, how perfectly you’ll fit in his arms, how you belong with him. You’ll see, he’ll make you see, and he can’t wait to make you his again, truly his.

---

Yeah this has been a recurring dream bothering the fuck out of me, so I thought why not make it into a story and hopefully I’ll stop thinking about it and can focus again. I promise you I’m also working on some fun stories, eventually they will see the light of day too heh. Tell me what you think! <3

[averagefandomnerd]

You deserve all the love and support <333333 I love you lots too

Lineage (M)

Pairing: Duke Yoongi x Princess Reader

Word Count: 6.7K

Summary: When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be.

Warnings:  HEAVY yandere themes, mentions of gore and death, near-death experiences, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, dubcon smut (reader is a virgin, fingering, unprotected sex), 18+, explicit language

A/N: Part 1 of Lineage! Took 3 months, a messy outline, and 2 drafts that I decided I hated halfway through writing and deleted before starting over to finish one part. Tags of people who replied to the preview will be added in a reblog. Thank you for everyone who has been waiting and has shown support for the preview of Lineage and my writing account overall! This is inspired by the multitude of Korean webnovels I’ve been reading during quarantine. If you like it, please leave a comment because I will cry out of joy and this took me a WHILE to get out of the drafts. Enjoy!

‘‘Duke,’’ the king’s teeth chattered in terror as he spoke, his voice low. “What have you come to visit me for?”

Yoongi closed his eyes briefly as if he was in thought. Normally, he’d be furious at the lack of efficiency, but something stopped him from simply slicing the fool’s head off with his sword. After all, there was a much more important matter at hand that he needed to deal with.

‘‘My king, you do,’’ Yoongi spoke slowly,’’ remember our deal, don’t you? I win the war against the bordering kingdom and give you a considerable sum, and you…’’

Yoongi directed a pointed look at the king, and the king flinched before hurrying over to his desk. He fumbled around with the papers on it, even knocking down a stack of sealed and stamped documents with his shaking elbows, before extracting a small silver-framed portrait.

Yoongi could see the tremor in the man’s hands as he handed him the portrait, but Yoongi only exhaled softly, almost as if he was relieved, as he took hold of the small painted picture.

Pretty long-lashed eyes that warmly sparkled despite paint being the only medium used, curved lips like budding flowers, and silky tresses that swooped past her delicate shoulders. The maiden etched into the canvas was not known as a beauty compared to her extravagantly dressed older sisters, but to Yoongi, she was worth much more than the other princesses combined. Yoongi gripped the portrait a little tighter, his hands slightly clammy.

‘‘You wanted the 8th princess, Princess [Y/N], as your bride,’’ the ruler before him sputtered. “As soon as you’re ready, I will have the engagement officially announced.”

Yoongi broke out of his reverie and tucked the portrait into the pocket of his coat before getting up from his seat. ‘’Thank you, my King. I will never forget the kindness you have bestowed upon the House of Min.’’

As Yoongi was about to open the door, the king called out once again.

‘‘Duke Min, if I may ask, why do you have so much interest in the 8th princess? I would have never thought she would suit your preferences. If you wanted, you could have the crown princess. Her beauty is known even in distant lands, and she is skilled—”

Yoongi coldly smiled at the pathetically shivering man, interrupting him sharply,’’ Do not interfere in personal matters, my King. Long live the Sun of the Kingdom.’’

The door clicked shut behind him, and the king sagged further into his extravagantly plush ruby couch. For the first time in his greedy life, the king truly felt sympathy for the young princess he had just sold to the notoriously named Duke of Hell.

Keep reading

[averagefandomnerd]

YOUR WORK IS IMMACULATE UNLIKE ANY OTHER THE BUILDUP EVERYTHING WAS *MWAH*

Lineage (M)

Pairing: Duke Yoongi x Princess Reader

Word Count: 6.7K

Summary: When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be.

Warnings:  HEAVY yandere themes, mentions of gore and death, near-death experiences, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, dubcon smut (reader is a virgin, fingering, unprotected sex), 18+, explicit language

A/N: Part 1 of Lineage! Took 3 months, a messy outline, and 2 drafts that I decided I hated halfway through writing and deleted before starting over to finish one part. Tags of people who replied to the preview will be added in a reblog. Thank you for everyone who has been waiting and has shown support for the preview of Lineage and my writing account overall! This is inspired by the multitude of Korean webnovels I’ve been reading during quarantine. If you like it, please leave a comment because I will cry out of joy and this took me a WHILE to get out of the drafts. Enjoy!

‘‘Duke,’’ the king’s teeth chattered in terror as he spoke, his voice low. “What have you come to visit me for?”

Yoongi closed his eyes briefly as if he was in thought. Normally, he’d be furious at the lack of efficiency, but something stopped him from simply slicing the fool’s head off with his sword. After all, there was a much more important matter at hand that he needed to deal with.

‘‘My king, you do,’’ Yoongi spoke slowly,’’ remember our deal, don’t you? I win the war against the bordering kingdom and give you a considerable sum, and you…’’

Yoongi directed a pointed look at the king, and the king flinched before hurrying over to his desk. He fumbled around with the papers on it, even knocking down a stack of sealed and stamped documents with his shaking elbows, before extracting a small silver-framed portrait.

Yoongi could see the tremor in the man’s hands as he handed him the portrait, but Yoongi only exhaled softly, almost as if he was relieved, as he took hold of the small painted picture.

Pretty long-lashed eyes that warmly sparkled despite paint being the only medium used, curved lips like budding flowers, and silky tresses that swooped past her delicate shoulders. The maiden etched into the canvas was not known as a beauty compared to her extravagantly dressed older sisters, but to Yoongi, she was worth much more than the other princesses combined. Yoongi gripped the portrait a little tighter, his hands slightly clammy.

‘‘You wanted the 8th princess, Princess [Y/N], as your bride,’’ the ruler before him sputtered. “As soon as you’re ready, I will have the engagement officially announced.”

Yoongi broke out of his reverie and tucked the portrait into the pocket of his coat before getting up from his seat. ‘’Thank you, my King. I will never forget the kindness you have bestowed upon the House of Min.’’

As Yoongi was about to open the door, the king called out once again.

‘‘Duke Min, if I may ask, why do you have so much interest in the 8th princess? I would have never thought she would suit your preferences. If you wanted, you could have the crown princess. Her beauty is known even in distant lands, and she is skilled—”

Yoongi coldly smiled at the pathetically shivering man, interrupting him sharply,’’ Do not interfere in personal matters, my King. Long live the Sun of the Kingdom.’’

The door clicked shut behind him, and the king sagged further into his extravagantly plush ruby couch. For the first time in his greedy life, the king truly felt sympathy for the young princess he had just sold to the notoriously named Duke of Hell.

Keep reading

[averagefandomnerd]

[averagefandomnerd]

[Yandere BTS reaction to meeting you for the first time] (part 2)

[A/N had a mental breakdown after cutting my bangs on impulse and now its really stubby short and I’m so dumb I’m gonna cry but instead, I wrote sorry for the delay boos]

(part one)

Jimin-Preschool Teacher:

Jimin had dealt with a lot of problems. He’d dealt with screaming and crying tantrums, children covered in head to toe with dirt even though their parents had strictly told him to not let them get dirty, hell he had even dealt with puke way too many times to count. But he’d never had to deal with this certain problem, this problem of infatuation. He remembered the very day you walked in. Graceful, kind, beautiful, with your hand wrapped around your niece’s tiny little hand, you were breathtaking. And then you looked up, looked up and smiled at him despite how you were obviously late for something based on how you kept checking your watch. Jimin was infatuated, the kind where he couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you gave two kisses to your niece’s chubby cheeks, brushed her hair out of her face, and told her in a soft, cheery tone to be a good girl. You had been watching over your niece while your sister, her mom, and her husband, her dad, were on vacation, you had told him. Jimin could barely speak, his heart in his throat. He wanted to give it all up for you, wanted to hold you and never ever let you go. But instead, he just nodded silently, his lips twisted in a nervous smile. You beamed in reply, ruffled your niece’s head, before waving politely at him and heading out quickly, leaving him to stare at your receding back, transfixed. It was awfully cheesy but he was in love with you at first sight, the kind of love where he waited for you to show up every single morning and night, the kind of love where you never, ever left his mind, not even for a minute. And he knows that one day this problem, this lovesick problem of his, is going to become your problem. And a twisted part of him just can’t wait. 

Taehyung-Artist:

Taehyung loved art. He loved making it, and above all, he loved collecting it. His house was covered in paintings, abstract colors and textures blossoming like flowers in his wall, and he had an entire room dedicated to just different statues. So it wasn’t all too surprising that he fell in love with you too, that he became obsessed with the art that made you you. You had been a new model for the art classes he taught in his free time, a nude one to be exact, and it paid awfully well. He had been in the middle of teaching his class different ways one could tilt the charcoal to create different textures when you had strolled in, clad in a thin silk robe. You were used to the stares, the examining way they peered at you as you shrugged off the robe and delicately propped yourself on the stand. That’s why you didn’t even initially notice Taehyung’s stare or hear the way his voice just softly hitched in his throat in the middle of his lecture. You couldn’t hear the way Taehyung’s heart came to a sudden stop, couldn’t see how his eyes had dilated as he looked at your naked form with a stare that was just a little too intimate to be like the inquisitive stares the other students gave. He quickly transitioned his class into a drawing period and took his place in front of his own canvas, desperate to imprint your essence upon the pure white of his paper. His charcoal stained his fingers and dwindled into a small nub as he scratched and blended and scrawled, but even when he was done, he wasn’t satisfied. He needed something to complete his own drawing. He needed something more. And as he stared at you, he realized just exactly what he needed. After all, to him, you were a masterpiece, and the masterpieces he set his eye on would always end up in his collection. 

Jungkook-Fitness Trainer:

Jungkook believed that mental strength was a direct contribution to physical strength. You had to be in control of your own emotions to be in control of your body after all. But something about you caused that to change. You had signed up for a fitness trainer at the beginning of the year, fully dedicated to completing your fitness goals for the year–although you had a good feeling that wouldn’t last that long–and Jungkook had been recommended by one of your more athletic friends. That’s why you were here, practically trembling in front of the embodiment of fitness. He was fit, the kind of fit that made you self conscious of your own fitness, and he was scary too, with the way his eyes wouldn’t stop intensely staring you down. His gaze would flicker up and down, tense and passionate, and you quaked as he barked out an order for you to do 100 sit-ups. You could feel his stare, unending, as you wheezed out in exertion on your 20th sit up, but you didn’t know just how intense he was feeling. You were so frail compared to him, weak and hopelessly vulnerable, and although he had seen many that were similar to you, he couldn’t stop the way his heartbeat just sped up as you blinked up at him so cutely and wheezed out that you were done. And even though he never showed his weakness when it came to you, his workouts even more intense than with other workouts, he can’t help the softness he feels when he sees you desperately trying to finish his workout. Or the burning in his lower stomach as he notices just how your ass pokes from your skin tight shorts and how your clothes showed little peeks of hot, sweaty skin. And he certainly can’t help his instinct to protect you. Something about you made him spin out of control, and really, for the first time in his life, Jungkook didn’t want to remain in control.

[averagefandomnerd]

[Yandere BTS Reaction to Meeting You for the First Time] (part one)

[A/N: Since the reactions I wrote are pretty long, I separated them into two parts and part two will be uploaded sometime soon when I have a breather from all the work I’m buried under! I’m going to try to upload the second part tomorrow, but if not, I’ll update it asap. Thank you to @averagefangirliegamer​ for the sweet message. I love writing the requests you give, and also please make sure to take care of yourself too!]

Seokjin-Chef:

Seokjin was damn good at his job. He had mastered even the most difficult cooking techniques at a young age, graduated early at the very top of the prestigious culinary academy he had attended, and had been labeled as one of the best chefs in the world. His world, one that featured his handsome face spread on glossy cooking magazines and sparkling awards that rumor said had their own separate room, was so different from yours, a student at some local culinary school with no real name in the world of professional chefs. But somehow, some-fucking-how, your worlds collided. He didn’t really think much of you when you walk in, hidden in the hoard of fangirls who wanted to catch a close experience with someone so handsome, but when everyone was settled in instead of clamoring like a bunch of stereotypical high schoolers, he noticed the way your hands were shaking. Some part of him, some twisted part of him, wanted to call you out. It was mean of him, sharply remarking how you could just dunk your hands in the eggs and they’d whisk up all fine, but the way your nervous energy shifted, the way you looked so angry, that look sparked something in him. God, he loved that look. So he couldn’t help but continue to comment on everything you did, from your chopping skills to the way you even fucking cracked open an egg, and if it wasn’t for the lack of refund that came along with this class, you would’ve punched him and then quit. Instead, you took every snip, staying in a simmering quiet until one day, after your cooking instructor pushed your dish off the counter earlier that day and Seokjin came over to comment on how your chopping skills were like a 5-year-old’s, you lost it. You were screaming, calling him every name in the book, and the way he slightly shivered, his eyes so twisted and sadistic, took you so off guard that you stormed out with the resolution to never come back. But Seokjin didn’t get to the top spot without resilience and with the way you acted so out of line, right in front of everyone, he would have to punish you. He just had to tie up some loose ends first, starting with your shitshow of a cooking school.

Yoongi-Music Producer:

It was a hopeless decision really. You had found the announcement, the opportunity to collaborate with the elusive music producer behind many of the year’s greatest hits. Nothing was really known about him, other than that his voice, coming from the radio interviews he did, was low and husky, a soft rumble of bubbling waterfall that flowed from your dated car radio, and that he never really left his home. He seemed chill, easy going and maybe, maybe it would work out and he’d recognize your work, and so you submitted a small song clip with your singing that you had been working on finishing producing. You didn’t get a reply for a month, and hope was dwindling as you noticed your social media feed flooded with tweets from music producers who were really good, who were much better than you, were complaining about getting a rejection email. So you were really surprised when you clicked your email open one day and at the very top was an email from the mystery man’s assistance. “The audio clip you sent in showed clear emotion quality and moved Agust D’s soul. We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted and we look forward to working with you starting next week on Monday.” You were absolutely shaking, vibrating with excitement, and when you showed up, buzzing with nerves as you were led to a room and guided in. The mystery man himself introduced himself as Min Yoongi, his hand a little cold and his eyes awfully intense for someone you just met. He was quiet, even as he introduced himself and his low voice flowed in the air like a soft melody, and you found yourself distracted in the sound, ignoring the way his comments about your submitted track seemed just a little more personal than it should’ve been. That meeting was a turning chapter point in your life, standing there with your hand gripped in the never-ending clasp of Yoongi, and little did you know, it was a turning point for him too. You just never realized at that very moment that there was a deeper reason behind why he was so moved by your music and why it took him so long to finally let go of your hand.

Namjoon-Lawyer:

The law was a cold, brutal judge. That’s why it shouldn’t have surprised anyone that Namjoon, the epitome of the law in one stony avenging angel, was exactly that. He won cases left and right, crushed opponents and reaped in the never-ending flow of money he received from his more than just wealthy clients. That’s why when you walked in, a new lawyer practically quaking in a used pantsuit that didn’t quite fit you right, he was already envisioning the large sum of cash he was going to receive from such an easily-won case. It was almost pitiful the way you fumbled over your notes at first, quivering underneath the frosty, merciless gaze of the judge. But as you continued on, you became more confident, finding loopholes and objecting so well all of them were sustained and Namjoon could see, feeling a growing panic he hadn’t felt since the beginning of his career, the faces of the jury changing with each word you spilled. Namjoon hated this feeling, the small feeling of losing, and as he watched the head juror stand up and reveal the jury’s incentive of not guilty, he began to feel a burning hot frustration in the pit of his stomach. The rich didn’t enjoy having their money taken after all, and he was sure that this would be taken out on him some way or another. But as he mulled over his failure, he began to wonder exactly how you won. You were like a shivering mouse when you walked in, fragile and terrified, but something changed. And as he mulled, he began to feel more and more interest until your every thought plagued his mind, a disease that refused to leave. He found himself praying–praying, a deed that had never been done by a man characterized by the law itself–that with each case, you would be his opposing counsel. You’re his obsessive thought, someone who just won’t leave his mind, and it’s not really his fault that he has to pull some strings here and there. And when you’re finally standing across from him, real and in the flesh and finally in a suit that fitted you just right, he can’t help the almost depraved way he thought of making your confident self sink down to his level.

Hoseok-Dance Trainer:

Hoseok breathed in and out dance, and it showed. Dance choreographies in popular idol groups were all choreographed by him and if they weren’t, everyone was already fully aware that the companies would be seeking him out, ready to beg on their knees if they had to. But you, you were different. He remembered the exact moment he had seen you in all of your glory. It had been a gloomy rainy day in Seoul, the kind where umbrellas spotted the streets and the city was so drab and lonely. He had been heading to the nearby convenience store when he had heard the music, pounding despite the harsh splattering of rain against the pavement, and some part of him just couldn’t exactly stop how his feet led himself to a small group. You were drenched, a sight to be seen in soggy clothes, and your hair flopped messily in the relentless rain. But even when water droplets clung to your lashes and you had to blink furiously to be able to see somewhat through blurry eyes, you never once stopped dancing, even as your teammates began to slow down and stumble. He quickly disappeared, coming back with a small bag from the convenience store nearby, and he walked up to you as you wiped away water furiously with your already soaking sleeves, handing you the small bag. ‘’A towel,’’ was all he had managed to say as you looked up, beaming like an angel as you noticed the stranger’s kind act. Hoseok couldn’t help the way his heart thrummed in his chest, the way it seemed that the dark clouds of Seoul finally parted away to show the glowing rays of the sun, as you spoke to him, cheerfully giving your thanks despite how much he should be thanking you instead before turning away. Before he could think about it, he was already gripping the sleeve of your coat, breathless as you turned around in confusion, and he grabbed his slightly wet business card, the one he had been saving when he finally found the one for his company, out of his pocket before shoving into your hands. He just had to see you again, as much as a human in darkness had to see the sun. And as you softly smiled back up at him, shyly, he felt the encompassing warmth of the sun sink in.

[averagefandomnerd]

It 🥺 was 🥺 so 🥺 amazing, thank you so much

Yandere!BTS Reaction to Finding Out You’ve Been Faking Your Love

[Thank you for requesting, @averagefangirliegamer​! Thank you so much for your message, and I hope this is okay!]

Jin:

He’s absolutely livid. After everything he’s done for you, after how much he’s taken care of you, after how he’s made sure your every need besides, obviously, going out was carefully met and you dare, you DARE to think such hateful things about him. He’ll punish you, ripping and cutting up your diary in front of you until it’s absolutely destroyed before taking you over his knee and spanking you until it hurts so much you want to die. You’re crying, begging him to stop and that you’re so so sorry through snotty tears. But he won’t relent, each strike getting stronger and stronger in response to your defiance. After all, good girls don’t get punished, but you, you’re a naughty girl that needs to be taught a proper lesson.

Yoongi:

You’re so used to how cold he is that the very moment that he loses his absolute shit, you’re absolutely terrified. You’ve never realized just how raspy and loud and scary his voice can get as he yells and screams until you’re trembling in a corner, tears dripping down your cheeks. The diary lays next to you, ripped and crumpled just like how you feel as he gets closer, spit flying out of his mouth with how fucking angry and betrayed he is. He’ll yell until his voice cracks and breaks off, and he finally notices how terrified you are of him, weeping and sniveling as you press yourself further into the wall. And when he does, you can’t exactly blame the sadistic spark that flickers in his heart or the temptation to make you feel the same kind of fear and hurt he’s feeling.

Namjoon:

He’s absolutely, 100% a very manipulative man. He’s not the type to just suddenly lose his cool like the other BTS members, refusing to succumb into the impulse to just scream and see how many tears you’ll spill from your fear of him. Instead, he’ll twist your thoughts around after overhearing your words, simply locking you in a small room he has underneath the latched door in his closet without another glance or a word to spare, barely flinching when you try to kick him. You’ll hate him even more, he’s sure of it, but give one week, even one single day, of nothing but less than the very basic necessities and a suffocating dark loneliness and he’s sure with every bone in his body that the next time you come out, your behavior will be genuine.

Hoseok:

Hoseok’s anger is so rare that even a slight slip of his usual charming smile is as threatening as a yell. So when he finds the crumpled ripped scraps of paper with familiar writing scrawled over it and pieces the words together, his usual sunny demeanor slips. The darker side of his personality emerges, the one that’s so different from the sweet and warm Hoseok that you’ve been taking granted of. He’ll shout and holler and you’re fearing for your life when he finally takes an intake of air. The sight of Hoseok so unhinged and the days following of him refusing to even look at you, those moments remind you just exactly where you place in your messed up relationship with him and just how well you should be playing your part.

Jimin:

The type to absolutely break down in tears when he overhears each horrible, spiteful word you spew out. He’ll break into the bathroom, his face red from just how angry and betrayed he feels as he screams and screams before just breaking down in blubbering sobs, falling to his knees and grabbing onto your cold, wet body. He’ll beg, beg you not to hate him, and that he’ll be better–though you know him too well that he’ll never change–until you get sick of how desperate and loud he is and reassure him that you never meant a thing. if you think Jimin was clingy before, then you’re about to be rudely awakened to a revelation that after hearing what you said, Jimin is now never ever going to leave your side. He’s sure that there’s someone or something corrupting your mind and making his perfect, beautiful lover act like this, and he’ll find out.

Taehyung:

Taehyung’s personality when it comes to you is, simply, very unpredictable. He’ll drag you out of wherever you are when he finds the small purple diary hidden in the depths of your closet, throwing you down and screaming until his voice is hoarse. But it’s not his screaming that scares you or the shattering of glass as he knocks over the vase that makes you want to chew the diary to pieces and spit it out in an undecipherable clump of wet paper, it’s how terribly cold and inhuman his eyes are as he towers over your trembling body. You always forget that Taehyung, no matter how unpredictable, is predictable in one aspect: he never fails to terrify you.

Jungkook:

Despite just how intimidating Jungkook is with how bulky and built and capable of shattering you with a flick of his pinky finger he is, he’ll never lay a hand on you or use his strength as a threat, even though the sight of him does the job without him needing to do so. If anything, he’s absolutely devastated that you would say such cruel things about him. He thought you had moved past this, and his heart absolutely aches at how much he just wants you to love him instead of pretending. He’s not so cruel as to use his strength against you, but he’s absolutely certain that just a few days of him tying you to your headboard and showing you just how grateful you should be to him might finally do the trick.

[Trying to figure out if I should do a continuation of Warlock! Yoongi or mayhaps try doing a Vampire!Jungkook?? Let me know what y’all think]

[averagefandomnerd]

Here’s something to chew on.

[averagefandomnerd]

I am laughing so hard oh my god clickhole

[averagefandomnerd]

It was even better than I expected 🥺 thank you so much 💓

Could I have BTS's reaction to having an emotional detached s/o for example like if they punish her by killing a loved one or something it doesn't really affect her? But it doesn't have to stay in just that particular situation you can explore and stuff >< also sorry for rambling

[Of course! I relatively kept it close to what you requested, and I hope you enjoy it! <3 Thank you for requesting]

Warnings: Violence, Threats of Violence, Abuse, Death, Gorey Descriptions, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Other Yandere Themes, Like really fucking toxic relationships that I hope none of you ever experience]

Seokjin:

It was the fifth person, an array of blood and bones and an image that should’ve sickened you to the core. Anyone would’ve felt sickened. But, standing here with eyes glued to the limp, neatly sliced up corpse of your best friend, you felt nothing. You felt nothing as Seokjin pressed you closer to him, his blood-soaked apron staining your beautiful white blouse. All you could think of was the material, how hard the bloodstain would be to get out, anything but the death that reeked in the room. You could see Seokjin get angrier, his voice louder as he told you to look, to look at the death. His words were like a haze, a watery blur of letters that your mind didn’t bother to interpret. He wanted to see you cry, to sob, to see you react with anything but the mute reality you were responding with. After all, Seokjin loved, just a little too much, to see you cry.

“I killed him, sliced each inch of his skin for being too close to him, and you won’t even say anything? Do you not care about what I do for you? Look at him! Look at him. This is the extent I’ll go for you, what I’d risk for you, and yet you won’t even look at me!”

Keep reading

[averagefandomnerd]

[averagefandomnerd]

FREE PADS AND TAMPONS

Hey all you lovely people who have periods, the world is starting to look a little bit brighter now that certain tampon/pad companies have started to allow people to receive small kits and samples of pads, maxi pads, liner, and tampons for free. And I mean 100% free and discreet. You just have to give them your address and name, and bam! You’ve got all the menstrual cycle products you could ever need for no cost. Links below!

U by Kotex

Always

Playtex

Poise

[averagefandomnerd]

SADIST (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/ux8dsJdYWX In a very realistic depiction of sexual assault and emotional abuse, Jungkook can't keep a senior's eyes off him- to the point where it gets uncomfortable. And soon enough, he finds himself caught up in a mess he can't find a way out of. "The thought of you covered in blood makes my jeans tighten, bunny." Jimin doesn't take no for an answer, …

[averagefandomnerd]

[averagefandomnerd]

Mayhaps the vocal king snapped

[averagefandomnerd]

they really can’t sit still for 40 seconds…sums up BTS

[averagefandomnerd]

White people can’t have dreads and that’s okay pt.2

My last post got a lot of feedback and comments and I’ve figured out where I went wrong…

I assumed you guys had basic reading comprehension and knew how to use this amazing free site called GOOGLE!

So I’m going to break it down soooooo far, that unless you’re actually stupid, you’ll understand

One last time…

These are dreadlocks:

These are matts:

And THESE are Jata:

Dreadlocks are culturally significant to Africans and people of African decent and while not everyone agrees with this (like with anything/everything) it is understood that this is a significant part of African culture. African Americans especially ask that other cultures not appropriate this culture. While no one can stop you, we don’t want this part of our culture that has for so long been denied to us -and is some places STILL denied to us- to be taken and appropriated by others. Dreadlocks take a lot of time, effort, and care to upkeep. They do not form because of lack of maintenance or health. (Freeform dreadlocks will be discussed in a later post)

Jata are defined as “ropelike strands of hair formed by matting or braiding hair.” And they are typically worn by monks or spiritual leaders from Indian cultures. The God Shiva is depicted as having Jata and spiritualist also have Jata for religious purposes. And while I’m not Indian and can’t speak very much from person/cultural experience on this topic I do know that it is wrong to use Jata as an example to try to prove that “all cultures had dreadlocks.” Also, just because western historians were too lazy to properly make distinctions between culturally important hairstyle instead of labeling them all as “dreads” doesn’t mean that we have to continue the ignorant style.

Matts happen when someone of ANY HAIR TEXTURE doesn’t maintain, wash, or take care of their hair. Some people say that this is “natural” and like to call these formations “dreadlocks” as you can see in the pictures above they are very very different. Dreadlocks have gotten a bad representation because 1) Racism, plain simple, please don’t try to argue this. 2) Misinformation and ignorance & 3) The stereotypes matt-wearers -especially white people- perpetuate. A lot of white people and/or nonblack people who have matts call them “dreadlocks” and talk about how “easy” they are because they don’t have to wash their hair, take care of their hair, or maintain their hair. This is definitely not the case. Matts are in no way shape or form dreadlocks. Dreadlocks form on afrotextured hair and while SOME white people do have thicker textured hair it is still asked that since they are not of African descent they do not try to imitate dreads! African Americans especially are harassed, bullied, and even assaulted for wearing their natural hair. It’s not right for us to face this harassment only for white people to wear our styles while misrepresenting us.

Culture is an amazingly wonderful thing that everyone can experience. But while there are open aspects to every culture there are also closed aspects. And that’s okay.

If you are a nonblack person and you have matts but used to call them dreads that doesn’t make you a bad person. If you continue to misrepresent dreadlocks and learn nothing from this post but “It’s just hair!!! I can do what I want!” Then yes, you are then in the wrong.

Not let’s clarify something:

POC wearing western clothing and adhering to western culture is not in ANY WAY similar to cultural appropriation. Western culture was FORCED ON US and is still FORCED ON US to this very day. All aspects of western (European/American/White) culture are open as far as I know. If you are confused about if something is considered to be cultural appropriation ASK VARIOUS SOURCES!!! Particularly people from that specific race/ethnicity/culture. I know all those aren’t synonymous but it’s best to ask various sources from that culture.

Some in the comments of my last post said “Nose rings originated in India! Does this mean that only Indians can have nose rings?” If Indians or people of Indian descent (like a majority) asked for other cultures to stop wearing nose rings because it is culturally significant to them and the style has been misrepresented I would not get one and I would support their decision.

TLDR; White people and nonblack people cannot and should not have dreadlocks nor should they try to imitate them.