#i’m not sure anyone else here on inkykeiji dot tumblr dot com cares for itachi BUT THAT IS FINE <333< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[inkykeiji]

clari. yes.

i love him toooooo anon!!!!!

tw: incest/pseudocest, toxicity, coercion words: 422

sigh he would be such a good big brother, such a stern big brother, wouldn’t let you get away with anything (*/ω＼*) you can never get a single thing past him, can never sneak out to see your friends or that stupid boy he hates so much, can never surreptitiously slip past him when you’re stupidly intoxicated, can never smuggle something you definitely shouldn’t have, something he tells you no good little boy or girl should ever possess, into your room without him noticing immediately.

he’ll promise not to tell mom n dad if you promise to stay his precious baby sibling—his and his alone—forever and ever and ever <3 but he keeps all of these incidents stashed away safely between the folds of his brain, always ready to conveniently whip one out and dangle it over your parents’ heads, held precariously between a slim forefinger and a thumb, the moment you step a fucking toe out of line, the moment you do something nii-san doesn’t like, something nii-san doesn’t approve of.

it’s for your benefit, he promises you, after you inevitably appear in the threshold of his bedroom door (just like you do every night, just like you have been for years now, routine and right on schedule) with tear-glazed eyes and a twitching nose, begging to know why he’d do such a thing, why he’s so mean and cruel, yet running into his arms the moment he holds them out for you, makes a space for you, pats his thighs and draws you into his clutch.

nii-san only ever wants the best for you, he tells you as your chest stutters with poorly stifled sobs (shh, be quiet, we don’t any anyone to hear, now, do we?) and warm salt water seeps into his neck, dampening the collar of his worn t-shirt. and if you have to learn the hard way then he will teach you the hard way. it’s up to you, really.

except it doesn’t feel like a vow of sincerity, doesn’t feel like a choice you get to make. it feels like a threat.

dread unfurls stinging and sticky in the pit of your stomach, but you nod and hum and agree anyway, clinging tighter to your big brother as his palms rub soothing circles into your back and hushed praises drip syrupy sweet from his lips, a sick type of thrill jolting your blood, because you want to be good for him, his good little baby, always and forever.