Request Posted Soon!!! Send Me More ;)

Request posted soon!!! Send me more ;)

stay • bbh

Request: Hi! Could you write a mafia Baekhyun and pregnant reader? Baekhyun doesn't want the baby but reader resists. Angst things but happy end please.

Warnings: mafia!bbh, pregnancy, slightly controlling bbh, mentioned whipping, mentioned face punching, implied abortion

—————

“How long did you think you could keep this up?”

His narrowed eyes are fixed on you as you squirm uncomfortably under his gaze. You know he’s angry. He’s seething, actually, but he looks calm, lounging comfortably in his chair, slouched in the scratched leather as he absentmindedly twirls his rings around his rough, coarse fingers. His posture says he’s bored but his face is focused and serious.

You shrug, eyes anywhere but on him and he sighs. “Look at me,” he says. His voice is cold, words sharp as he scrutinises you. When you finally meet his gaze he softens slightly and you half expect (hope) him to praise you, to call you a good girl and pat your head. Maybe even pull you into his hold and tell you it’s all alright. But he doesn’t. He just nods, satisfied at least, and motions for you to speak.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. Your hands absentmindedly stroke across your slightly swollen belly and it catches his attention. You watch as his gaze falls on you and for the first time in a while you seriously consider getting up and running because he regards you with pure and utter contempt.

“I thought you were smarter,” he says. “Thought I made you smart but I guess I was wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. Your grip on your belly tightens almost protectively because you know how volatile he is, how uncontrollable he is when he’s angry, and you know he’ll hurt you if he has to. He has before, on occasion, to protect you, he said, and you know as he glares at your shaking hands that he views the baby inside you as a threat. What’s worse is that he’s probably right — a pregnant mafia wife is a threat to everyone. It inflates the target already on your back and puts him at greater risk for it.

“Get rid of it,” he says and you shake your head instantly. You’ve seen a lot of horrible things as his wife but you will not see any harm brought to your baby. His baby.

“I’m not getting rid of it,” you snap, voice as cold as is safe around him. “It’s ours.”

His hand twitches slightly and you unconsciously edge away from him, retreating further into the safety of the chair. You know he wants to hit you. You hear it in his voice, in his pursed lips and calculating eyes. He hates back talk, despises when you don’t obey but he seems to have gathered that for you to have gone to such lengths to hide this, this is something he can’t beat you into submission on. He cannot control you here, cannot expect your usual obedience and that only makes him more angry.

“You’ll put yourself in danger,” he says. “And you’ll put that… thing in danger, too.”

“It’ll be fine,” you say. “With you to protect it. Just like you protect me.”

“No,” he says, voice raised and firm. “I won’t. I can’t.”

What comes next seems to take both of you by surprise. You don’t mean to shout. He’s taught you to fear disrespecting him, to fear putting even a toe out of line so your raised voice as you yell “For fuck’s sake, Baekhyun!” takes you both by surprise. Your words are followed by a whimper as you realise your mistake. You’ve watched people die at his hands for less, and were you anyone else you know you’d already be bleeding out onto the floor right now. And whatever protection your relationship affords you doesn’t stop him fingering the gun in his belt, eyes dark.

But he doesn’t lunge for you like you feared he would, or summon his men to set you straight as he’s done before — you still have marks set into your skin from his right hand man Loey’s frightening skill with a whip — he doesn’t do anything, actually. He just carries on talking, as if he hadn’t heard you at all.

“I won’t protect that thing in you,” he continues, “and as long as it’s there, I won’t protect you either.”

You balk. “What?”

Now you want to lunge at him but he’s already standing up— apparently this conversation is over. “It’s your choice,” he says. “I hope you’ll make the right one.”

————

You don’t see him for a few days. Apparently you’re both ignoring each other, refusing to give in or even discuss a matter which in both of your minds has already been decided on. The only indication that he’s even thought about the situation, or you, at all, is his men’s grumblings to each other about how ‘Boss is extra angry lately’. And if you were skeptical about low-level complaints, the appearance of the first bruise you’ve ever seen on Loey’s face confirms it. He might work for Baekhyun, but you know from their interactions that Loey is the closest thing to an equal your husband allows himself. So when he drops by your room with a black eye and gritted teeth it sobers you. This is really bothering Baekhyun. So much so that he’s actually… upset?

“Upset is one word,” Loey grumbles. “The fucker decked me in the face.”

Over the years you’ve become almost friends with Loey — or the closest thing you can have to a friend, because your husband insists on keeping you all to himself — so you’re only slightly worried when a laugh slips out at the incredulous look on his face. He raises an eyebrow and a dirtied hand twitches, but he seems to find it sort of funny too.

“It serves you right,” you say. “For fucking whipping me.”

He smiles slightly, shrugs but his lips purse at the memory. “Boss’s orders, wasn’t it?” He mumbles. “You shouldn’t have tried to run.”

You roll your eyes when he looks away and it’s silent for a second before he speaks. “Talk to him, will you? Sort this out? He loves you but he wants to kill you right now, so he’s taking it out by killing us instead.”

“Well he can keep doing that,” you say. “Because I’m not killing our baby.”

He shrugs. “Then someone else will.”

You stare at him for a moment until you grasp the meaning of his words and jump back from him, shocked, terrified of the both of them. “Is that why you’re here?” You shriek, clutching your belly in horror and for some reason the fucker laughs.

“Of course not,” he says, “come back.”

You eye him suspiciously but relent, breathing evening out as you cautiously settle back on your bed, this time on the opposite side to him. He snorts. “Even if those were my orders, I’m not doing shit for the old man until he apologises for this.” He gestures towards his bruise, still grumbling to himself and you giggle.

“What, then?” You say. “What should I do?”

He sighs, shakes his head. “I don’t know. I told him his life wasn’t for you.”

He doesn’t let you respond before he’s left the room, door slamming shut. You slump against your pillows, one finger tracing patterns across your belly. You grab your hand, stopping yourself as you turn over on your side. You feel tears forming but your body won’t let them shed. You know what you need to do.

————

He doesn’t even greet you before he launches into questioning, voice emotionless as he asks if you’ve gotten rid of it.

You nod almost dumbly, still in shock. You don’t want to think about this. The whole time you’ve loved this man you’ve fought not to be seen as a silly little trophy wife, but now that stereotype is all that holds you together. You’ve resigned to act as though you have no idea what happened, what you did, in the hopes that your conscience might follow the same tune and forget.

He smiles, the first you’ve seen since he learned of your condition. He pulls you down into his lap, gently pushing your head into the crook of his neck as he strokes up and down your back. “Good girl,” he whispers. “My good, good girl. So brave.”

You want desperately to let go, to let yourself cry and scream and feel something, but you know you can’t. You’ve made your decision — you chose him. He’s pleased. He’s loving. His words are all that matter.

Almost two years to the day, you find yourself staring at another positive pregnancy test, but this time he’s right beside you, kissing the tears of joy where they fall down your cheek. This time, it’s his hand that lies on your belly, that cradles the child within. Protecting it, loving it. Loving you. You made the right choice.

—————

A/n: first request posted! Thx anon, hope this is what u wanted!!! Pls comment and reblog! It rly motivates me to write more. Love xx

vulnerability. – masterlist

Pair: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Rating: +18 for mentions of s*x and violence (future chapters)

Genre: angst, smut

Current word count: 13 267

Next update: September 2k21

Tags: BDSM, polygamy, mentions of s*x, criminal activity. Warnings will be specified under the chapters.

Abbreviations: [F/n] – First name; [L/n] – Last name

Prologue

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4.

touch me is hot!! love it🤍 thank you!

NO THANK U!!!! I’m so glad u like it and really appreciate the ask it’s a huge motivator !!! Love xx

First smut posted pls interact or I’ll delete it out of shame……

protector • kjm

He likes to press his hands against the glass that separates them, so that he can almost touch her. Can almost run his rough, dirtied fingers along that pure, unsullied skin. Can almost thread his fingers through her hair and pull on it, ever so slightly, to hear her whine in pain. To soothe and comfort her, to make her love him, need him like he does her. But he cannot. And he will not. That is why the glass is there.

Sometimes she breathes against it, a small, gentle breath, so that she can draw small messages into the condensation. Sometimes they’re in a language he understands; she asks him questions, answers his, or draws tiny pictures for him. Sometimes, though, when she seems flat and empty and hopeless, she writes in a different script, one which seems more familiar to her. She writes short, bleak sentences with no punctuation, and there are no pictures. It makes him want to hold her, to kiss her hair and find out what’s wrong, what has upset her so, but he cannot, because he knows that the answer is him.

She is asleep when he comes this morning, curled up in a little ball, tiny hands clutching at her blanket. He watches as her chest rises and falls, as she breathes in and out, in and out, in, out, in, out. It’s a good reminder of why there is glass between them — the class also separates her from the rest of the world, the cold, cruel world which would only seek to hurt her, ruin her, take all of her that is beautiful and turn it into something else, something more acceptable. And he cannot allow that to happen. He cannot allow them near his girl, to even think of her, so they cannot know she exists. And she doesn’t, not to the world, because she is his. And she looks so pretty when she sleeps. So, so pretty.

He runs his hands down his chest and pretends it is hers. Presses a small kiss to the glass, level with her face as if they’re touching. And when she slowly wakes, he makes sure their eyes meet. He whispers good morning. She mouths it back. They are safe from the world.

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a/n;; (Something I wrote with suho in mind - I guess a messed up idea of the guardian role. Obviously I do not think he would do any of this. Maybe this is more x-exo?? Idk. I might make a full thing of this or based on it but for now here. I wrote this in like 15 minutes and haven’t proofread it but just pretend I have. Love<3) (how do I format on tumblr) (lol please interact)