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
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“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
