#bratty behavior

He squinted at you, smirking as if sizing you up for a fight he already knew he’d win. "You’re the brat, then?" he asked, voice dripping with amusement and something rougher underneath it.

You narrowed your eyes, sitting up straighter. "Excuse me?"

"I said," he drawled, throwing his jacket onto a chair like he couldn’t give a shit about the million-dollar decor, "you’re the little princess I’m supposed to babysit."

You scoffed, tossing your phone down. "I'm nineteen, asshole. Not five."

He just chuckled, deep and lazy, like you amused him way more than you should. "Could’ve fooled me," he said, eyes raking over your shorty shorts and tight tank top without shame. "Walkin' around dressed like that... no fuckin' wonder your old man’s losin' sleep."

Your cheeks heated instantly, but you refused to let him see it. "You're disgusting," you hissed.

Toji grinned wider, teeth sharp. "Mmhmm. And you’re spoiled."

You stood up, walking towards him with that signature strut — the one that made the staff scatter when you were in a mood. He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

God, he was infuriating.

"You work for me now, y'know," you said sweetly, batting your lashes. "Which means you listen to me."

He raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. "Nah, Princess. I listen to your daddy's orders. Big difference."

You glared at him. "You're gonna regret underestimating me."

"Already doin' that," he said, ruffling your hair roughly like you were a kid.

You shrieked, smacking his hand away. "Don't touch me, you fucker!"

He just laughed, full-bellied and so goddamn smug, crossing his arms over his massive chest. "You’re gonna be a real fuckin' joy, huh?"

**********

The coming days were hell — for you.

Everywhere you went, Toji was there.

Shopping? He leaned against the dressing room wall, arms crossed, making comments every time you tried on something tight. Café date with friends? He sat at the next table, sipping coffee like a bored dad while your friends whispered about his muscles. Spa day? Cinema night? Fucking brunch? He was there. Always.

And no matter how much you whined, stomped, sweet-talked, or snapped, Toji didn’t budge. He wasn't like the staff who melted at your bratty little tantrums. He enjoyed watching you get all worked up.

"You’re like a damn kitten, y'know that?" Toji said one day as you shoved shopping bags into his arms.

"Better than being a brainless meathead!" you shot back instantly.

He just gave you a slow, dangerous smile. "Brainless, huh? You’re real brave talkin' like that... while hidin' behind Daddy’s money."

You gasped, scandalized. "You— you—!"

"You," he mimicked in a high-pitched whine, teasing you like you were five.

You were seething, cheeks hot with fury. But fuck if your heart wasn’t racing for a different reason.

That night, you lay in bed, tossing and turning, the image of Toji's lazy smirk burned behind your eyelids.

God, you hated him. God, you hated how he made your thighs press together under the sheets. God, you hated that he treated you like some bratty kid who needed to be handled.

Handled. The word made you squirm.

You huffed, burying your face into the pillow. "Fucking asshole."

From the other side of the door, you could hear his heavy boots pacing the hallway — guarding you. Always. Watching. Even when you didn't ask for it. Even when you didn’t know you needed it.

**********

The next morning was no better. You burst into the dining room, still in your silk pajamas, finding him at the table, eating "your" breakfast like he lived here.

"Hey!" you snapped. "That's not for you!"

Toji licked jam off his thumb, lazy and unbothered. "Tell your old man to fire me, Princess. Otherwise? Suck it up."

You stomped your foot. "I hate you."

He smirked. "Yeah? You sure bark real pretty for someone so tough."

You blinked. "What?!"

He winked at you and stood, stretching his thick arms overhead, muscles rippling under his black t-shirt. "Keep barkin', baby," he said, walking past you, ruffling your hair again just to piss you off. "One day you’re gonna find out what happens to mouthy little brats who poke the bear."

Your heart stopped. He said it so low. So dark. So full of promise. You hated how it made your stomach flip. You hated how you wanted to find out exactly what he meant.

You were so over it.

So over Toji's shadow dogging your every damn step like you were some helpless little princess in a tower. Because today was supposed to be a chill day — brunch with your friends, a little shopping, maybe a mani-pedi if you felt like it. Not a "let's bring the grumpy, musclehead bodyguard to ruin the mood" kind of day.

You peeked out from your bathroom, watching Toji lean against the front doorway, thumbing lazily through his phone. He didn't even need to look at you to know you were up to something.

"'Bout time you stopped starin'," he muttered without lifting his gaze.

You rolled your eyes so hard they hurt. "You're so full of yourself."

"You’re so fuckin' obvious," he countered, finally glancing up at you, and goddamn, the way his dark green eyes raked over your outfit was criminal. Tight jeans, little cropped top, platform shoes — you looked like trouble, and you knew it.

"Where you think you’re goin' dressed like that, Princess?" he asked, pocketing his phone.

"Out." You tossed your hair dramatically. "You don't need to know where."

"Funny," he said, pushing off the wall, towering over you effortlessly. "Pretty sure that's exactly my fuckin' job."

You jutted your chin out, standing your ground even though your heart raced stupidly. "I’m an adult. I don’t need permission," you sniffed, swiping your bag off the table.

Toji snorted. "Yeah? Tell that to your daddy when he finds out you got yourself snatched up ‘cause you’re too dumb to think straight."

You gasped, genuinely offended. "I am not dumb!"

He leaned down real close, smirking when you instinctively backed into the wall. His voice dropped, rough and low. "Then don’t act like it, sweetheart."

Your skin prickled under his gaze. God, you hated him. God, you hated how he made you feel small without even touching you. God, you hated how you kinda... liked it.

You pushed past him with a huff, heart hammering.

Of course, Toji tailed you and your friends like a looming, silent demon the entire afternoon. You tried ignoring him, giggling with your girlfriends, posing for selfies, pretending you weren’t hyper-aware of his heavy stare every second. But the itch under your skin only grew.

So, when your bestie whispered about a new underground bar nearby, very much not somewhere a "good girl" should go, an idea sparked.

You could ditch him. Just for a little while. He couldn't control you forever. Right?

"Bathroom break," you chirped, slinking off from the crowded café.

Toji didn’t even glance up from his black coffee.

"Boys' bathroom's that way, brat."

"Har-har," you mocked under your breath, flipping him off as you walked towards the back hall. Except you didn’t head for the bathrooms. You slipped out the side door, heart pounding, texting your friends to meet you at the bar.

Freedom tasted so sweet.

Or at least, it did for about twenty minutes. You barely had time to order a drink when a heavy hand clamped around your arm, dragging you off your barstool. You yelped, whipping around, only to crash right into Toji's chest. His jaw was clenched so tight you thought it might snap.

"What the fuck do you think you're doin', Princess?" he growled low enough only you could hear.

You squirmed, trying to shake him off. "Let go! I’m not a fuckin kid!"

He dragged you out of the bar effortlessly, like you weighed nothing. You kicked at his shins, punched his arm, huffed and cussed, but he didn’t even flinch. When he finally stopped, slamming you gently but firmly against a shadowed alley wall, you were panting with fury.

"You coulda gotten hurt, y'know that?" he hissed, towering over you, fists clenched.

"Ugh, why do you even care?!" you snapped. "You don't own me!"

He leaned down until your noses nearly brushed, his voice a dangerous rumble. "No. But your old man paid me a shitload to keep you breathin'. And brat, if you keep pullin' stunts like this..." His eyes darkened. "One day I might not fuckin' save you."

You froze. Your chest heaved with emotion, rage, humiliation, something hotter under the surface you didn’t dare name. He stared down at you, breathing hard, muscles tensed like he was barely restraining himself.

You lifted your chin, defiant even with your heart hammering in your throat. "Maybe I don't want to be saved," you whispered.

The look he gave you?

Like a wolf staring down a very stupid little rabbit. A muscle ticked in his jaw. His hand twitched at his side, like he was debating grabbing you again. But instead, Toji backed off slowly, running a hand through his messy dark hair.

"You're a fuckin' menace," he muttered.

You smirked. "Takes one to know one."

He huffed a short, humorless laugh. "Keep runnin' that mouth, Princess. Sooner or later you’re gonna find yourself bent over my knee," he said darkly, voice rough with warning.

You bit your lip, and this time you weren’t sure if it was to hide a smirk or a shiver. Challenge danced in your eyes.

"Promises, promises," you sang, flouncing past him.

You felt his stare burning holes in the back of your head as you sauntered back to the car. And you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. You were so gonna get under his skin.

**********

The next few days became a game. A stupid, dangerous game, but it was too much fun watching Toji's patience chip away, little by little.

It started small. Shorter skirts. Lower tops. Clingier dresses. You'd "accidentally" drop things in front of him, bending way too slow to pick them up. You'd lean over during car rides, pretending to search for something, knowing full well he got a faceful of your cleavage.

Every single time, Toji grumbled under his breath, muttering things like "Little fuckin' tease," or "You're gonna be the death of me, brat," but he never cracked.

He was always professional. Always holding the line....Until you pushed a little harder.

It happened at the mall.

You dragged him into a boutique under the guise of shopping for a "family dinner outfit." Toji slouched outside the fitting room, arms crossed, grumbling while you pranced around inside, trying on every inappropriate thing you could find.

"How's this one?" you asked sweetly, pulling the curtain back.

Toji glanced up, then froze. The dress was... barely a dress. It clung to every curve indecently, the neckline plunging low enough you might as well have been naked.

You twirled innocently. "Too much?"

Toji's jaw flexed. Hard. "Get your ass back in there," he growled.

You blinked, feigning hurt. "But I thought you were supposed to be protecting me, Toji," you pouted. "Shouldn’t you wanna keep me close like this?"

He leveled you with a stare so dark it made your thighs clench. "I ain't protectin' you from the world, brat," he said roughly. "I'm protectin' the world from you."

Your cheeks burned deliciously. God, he made you ache. Still, you weren't done. You stepped closer, the silky hem of your dress riding high.

"You’re no fun," you said, brushing past him to grab another hanger.

His fingers shot out, grabbing your wrist. Your breath hitched. He yanked you closer with no effort at all, his body radiating heat.

"You keep playin'," he muttered low, eyes flickering over your face, your lips, your heaving chest, "one day you ain't gonna like how I end it, sweetheart."

A shiver skated down your spine. For a long, heated moment, neither of you moved. Then Toji let you go with a grunt, stepping back like you burned him.

"Five minutes. Then we’re outta here."

You smirked. Challenge accepted.

Later that night, you pushed even further.

You sat curled up on the couch in the mansion’s sprawling living room, pretending to scroll your phone. Toji leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, watching you like he always did — impassive, silent. You looked up at him slowly, biting your lip.

"You’re so boring," you sighed dramatically. "Always standing there. Always frowning."

He raised a brow lazily. "You tryin' to hurt my feelings, brat?"

You shrugged. "Just saying. If you're gonna stalk me 24/7, you could at least be entertaining about it."

"You want entertainment?" he drawled, straightening off the wall.

Your heart skipped. He stalked toward you, slow and deliberate, every inch of him screaming danger. You tried to play it cool — tossing your phone aside and crossing your legs neatly. But when he loomed over you, you tilted your head up, your cocky mask slipping just a little.

"Got a lotta nerve talkin' shit to the guy who's keepin' you alive, Princess," he murmured, voice dripping with mockery.

You fluttered your lashes innocently. "Oh, I’m sorry. Am I being mean to my big strong bodyguard?"

He snorted.

"One day you're gonna wish you’d kept that mouth shut."

You beamed. "Not today."

Without warning, Toji dropped down onto the couch beside you, his thigh bumping yours, and you froze. The heat pouring off him was unbearable. His scent — sweat, soap, leather — wrapped around you like a noose. Your stomach twisted deliciously.

"Scared, brat?" he teased, voice a low rumble.

You forced yourself to scoff. "As if."

But when he smirked, like he could smell your arousal your cheeks burned hotter. "Could'a fooled me," he murmured, leaning back, arms spread lazily across the couch behind you.

Your heart pounded. You knew you should stop. You knew this was playing with fire. But you couldn’t help it. Slowly, teasingly, you shifted closer, letting your thigh brush his, pretending it was "accidental." You didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched.

Good. You wanted to break him. You wanted to see what would happen when Toji finally stopped holding back. And judging by the dark look in his eyes?

You were getting closer.

**********

The afternoon was dragging lazily.

You lounged on the couch in the living room, one leg draped over the armrest, flipping through your phone, bored out of your mind. Your earbuds were in, but no music played, you were too lazy to press play again. Mostly, you were stewing in your own annoyance.

Toji sat nearby, polishing a knife like the walking danger sign he was. His muscle shirt clung to his broad chest, veins visible as he slid the blade across the cloth in slow, measured movements. He glanced up every so often, like he was checking to make sure you hadn’t started setting the house on fire out of boredom. Typical.

The house was too quiet, the kind of quiet that made you feel like a guest instead of someone who lived here. The maids moved like ghosts, the guards outside paced like machines, and every tick of the antique clock on the wall grated on your nerves.

“This place is a goddamn prison,” you muttered, not expecting a response.

“Could be worse,” Toji said lazily without looking up. “Could be a real prison.”

You scoffed, shooting him a glare. “Wow. Inspirational. Thanks.”

He smirked slightly but didn’t respond. That was also typical. Tease you just enough to get under your skin, then retreat like it didn’t matter. You went back to scrolling your phone, about to text your friend about sneaking out later, when the front doors slammed open.

The heavy thud of expensive shoes echoed down the marble floors like thunder. You sat upright, startled, frown deepening as your father stormed in, his assistant trailing behind, already looking stressed.

He looked furious. Sharp. All business. A storm in an expensive suit.

“The hell?” you whispered.

Your dad never came home during the day. Not unless something was wrong. And definitely not looking like that, tired, tense, irritated in that cold, dangerous way that usually made grown men flinch.

He didn’t even glance at you. Just marched to the armchair opposite you and dropped into it like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His assistant shut the doors behind him quietly

"Everyone out," your father barked.

The staff scrambled. Only four of you remained. You. Your dad. His assistant. And Toji, who looked completely unfazed, still spinning his knife like he was in the middle of a Sunday hobby. Your father looked at Toji first.

“There’s been movement,” he said grimly. “They’re getting bolder. We had a firefight two nights ago. The docks. They got close.”

Toji nodded once, all business. “Casualties?”

“Two on our side. Five on theirs. But they got a message through.”

You watched the exchange with a mix of confusion and disinterest. “Message? What, like handwritten or one of those dramatic riddles?”

Both men ignored you.

“Intel says they’re probing weak spots. If they can’t get me …” His eyes cut to you like a blade.

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

“That’s why,” your dad said, “from now on, no more going out at night. Even with Toji.”

You sat up. “Excuse me?!”

“No parties. No late dinners. No stupid midnight drives.”

“Stupid?!” you exploded, launching off the couch. “So now I’m just a stupid little kid who can’t leave the house without permission?”

“Don’t twist my words—”

“Oh, sorry, Dad, I must’ve misheard between all the dictatorship!”

Toji made a low sound like a chuckle, earning a death glare from your father.

“You’ll stay in,” he repeated. “No discussion.”

“No discussion?!” you yelled, fists clenched. “You’re not even here half the time, and now you suddenly care? Just ‘cause you got problems at work doesn’t mean I have to suffer!”

Your dad’s jaw clenched. “This isn’t suffering—”

“Yes, it is! I’ve done nothing! I’ve been good! I stayed out of your business, kept to myself, didn’t even sneak anyone in—”

“Jesus,” Toji muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. “You’re making it worse.”

You whipped your head toward him. “You shut up! You’re supposed to be on my side! You're the damn bodyguard!”

He raised his brows. “Bodyguard, yeah. Babysitter? No.”

You glared at him. “I am not a baby!”

“No, you're an ungrateful brat,” your father snapped. That did it. Your breath caught in your throat.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

Silence fell like a thunderclap. Your dad’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes. He leaned forward, voice low but razor sharp.

“Do you think I enjoy this?” he hissed. “You think I want to lock you up like some goddamn bird in a cage?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he cut you off.

“I’m not doing this to hurt you. I’m doing it because you’re my daughter, and people would kill to get to me through you. They’ll drag you away in the dark and send me your fingers.”

You flinched.

“I’ve spent my life building walls so nothing touches you. I hired Toji because he’s the only man I trust with your life. And you think this is me being cruel?” His voice cracked, just slightly.

You stared, throat dry, anger faltering as guilt bubbled up. But your pride was louder. “Still doesn’t mean you get to control every second of my life,” you whispered stubbornly.

That’s when the slap of his palm hitting the table made you jump. “Enough!”

You flinched again, arms curling around yourself.

“I don’t want to hear another word,” he snapped. “You’re staying in. Toji’s in charge. You argue again, I’ll remove your damn phone and laptop.”

You stared, stunned, eyes burning. He’d never yelled like that. Never threatened consequences. You didn’t know how to react.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “There’s gifts upstairs. Go look.” Then, he turned to Toji. “Keep her in line.”

Toji nodded silently. And just like that, your father walked out, leaving behind silence and a bitter taste in your mouth.

You didn’t speak. You sat there, arms limp, staring at the space he’d occupied. Toji didn’t say anything at first either. Just leaned back, stretching like a cat, knife finally gone from his hands.

“Damn,” he muttered. “Didn’t know the old man had that in him.”

You said nothing.

“Hey,” he added after a beat. “You okay?”

You didn’t answer.

“...Brat?”

Still silent.

His smirk slowly faded as he studied your expression. You weren’t fuming or scheming like usual. You looked… wounded.

“Shit,” he muttered. “He really hit a nerve, huh?”

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, still not looking at him. He stood up slowly. “Alright. Gonna give you space, princess.” And then he left.

The weight of the house settled around you, silent and cold. You swallowed thickly, blinking fast to stop the burn in your eyes. Without much thought, you dragged yourself upstairs to your room.

The moment you pushed open the door, you froze. Piles of gifts boxes were stacked everywhere, luxury brands, glittering jewelry boxes, clothes and designer bags. All gifts from your father. Guilt twisted deep in your gut.

He wasn't trying to hurt you. He was trying to keep you safe. You bit your lip hard, sinking onto the edge of your bed, surrounded by the ridiculous, expensive proof of how much he loved you.

Still... It didn't stop the ache in your chest.

**********

It was dark by the time you stirred. You hadn’t moved from the bed, cheek mashed into a silk pillow, limbs limp. You didn’t cry. Not really. But your throat felt raw like you wanted to. Then the door creaked.

And in came Toji, holding a tray of your favorite food. He walked in like it was no big deal, but his eyes flicked over your form like he was checking for cracks.

"...Eat, brat."

You blinked up at him, stunned. “You brought me food?”

He grunted. “Chef wouldn’t shut up, so I kicked him out and made this.”

You stared at the grilled cheese, the fries, the soda. Your favorite comfort food. You sat up slowly.

“You didn't have to,” you murmured.

Toji sat on the edge of your bed with a grunt. “Didn’t wanna hear you sobbing through the walls.”

You snorted despite yourself.

“There she is,” he muttered, smirking faintly.

You picked at a fry. “Thanks.”

He leaned back, arms stretched behind him. “You know he didn’t mean to hurt you, right?”

You shrugged.

“He’s scared,” Toji added. “Doesn’t know how to say it. So he yells. Gives orders. Buys shit.”

Your chest ached. “I just hate feeling... trapped.”

“Yeah,” Toji said quietly. “But being trapped and being protected ain't the same thing. Sometimes they just... look similar.”

You were quiet for a long moment. Then: “You’re good at this.”

Toji looked at you.

You clarified, “The talking thing. I thought you’d be worse.”

He chuckled. “Don’t get used to it.”

You smiled faintly. “You’re still an asshole.”

He grinned. “And you’re still a brat.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder. He didn’t pull away. Just sat there beside you, solid and warm, quiet in the way that said he wasn’t going anywhere.

“…Wanna watch something dumb later?” you asked.

He tilted his head. “What kind of dumb?”

“Reality TV dumb.”

Toji groaned. “God. Fine. But I’m picking the snacks.”

You smiled into his arm. For now, the ache in your chest faded just a little. For a moment, you didn’t feel trapped.

You just felt... warm. Safe. Wanted.

Toji stood up then, ruffling your hair roughly like you were some scrappy little kid.

"Get some sleep, brat," he muttered. Then he paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder. "‘Cause tomorrow," he said with a wicked glint in his eye, "I’m dragging your spoiled ass to training."

You groaned dramatically. "Nooo— Tojiiiiii—!"

"Sorry, daddy's orders." He just laughed, a deep, rich sound, and disappeared down the hall, leaving you grinning like an idiot into your pillow.

Maybe being stuck here... Maybe being stuck with him... Wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

to be continued in the next chapter