#waaaaah daydreaming todaaaaay

[inkykeiji]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ dabi + taking care of you

18+ minors do not interact, toxic relationship, been thinking about this since my posture has been especially awful lately (*ﾉωﾉ)

today i’m thinking about dabi who actually really gives a fuck about your well-being, but has a bit of an odd way of showing it. 

dabi who runs a heated finger, just one degree too hot, up your curled spine, the scorching line he draws along your back snapping each vertebrae in its rightful place as it passes, his head dipping to murmur in your ear, commanding you to stand up straight, stupid.

dabi who slinks up behind you, soft, sly, to press calloused fingertips to the hinges of your jaw and grind, forcing the joints from their tight, locked position, his chin resting on the crown of your head. his voice vibrates against your back, comforting little tingles that seep past his ribs and snuggle into yours as he tells you to stop clenching, damn it; you’re gonna wear your molars down to sand. 

dabi who forcibly pulls you from the depths of your work, rough palms latching around your ribs and coarse fingertips sinking into the spaces between the bones, staining ten little prints of deep violet blotches into supple skin. s’enough of that, he’s demanding gruffly as he yanks you down onto the tattered couch with him, bony knuckles rubbing too-hard circles into your throbbing temples—knowing, already, the ache that’s been steadily building there. 

causticity twists his face at your responding wince, a pained whimper slipping from your lips, floating on a relieved sigh. i fuckin’ told ya, he spits out, concern masquerading as anger. y’been looking at that fuckin’ screen for too long. 

but his body softens as your own melts beneath his touch, soaks into his bones, the solace you find in him—the solace he brings to you, even with his too-rough hands and his acid tongue—untangling his rigidly coiled muscle fibers. 

dabi who kneads out all of the dull pain knotted in your joints, his fingers meticulous but harsh as they work the agony from your knuckles and palms and wrists, routine apologies muttered out through gritted teeth, each punctuating a tender sound of hurt evoked every time he presses a little too strong, massages a little too firm. 

dabi who, in his own unusual, twisted methods, genuinely cares about your well-being, and cares even more about enforcing it—controlling, owning, tending, keeping.

because despite his selfish greed, his obsessively possessive manner, his sharp edges and abrasive demeanour, dabi still takes impeccable care of what belongs to him—and you belong to him, too, don’t you?