Im A Slut For Men Who Want To Corrupt Me Further

i’m a slut for men who want to corrupt me further

Dabi with a darling who has an oral fixation so he has you suck him off for a cigarette.... or what's left of it-

He thinks you're adorable, truly he does, and he tells you so. The way you chew on your lip or gnaw on your nails until they're bleeding. The way you'll bite on the tips of your fingers when you're engrossed in something, he adores that little pout of yours when he tells you it's something a child would do. He'll give you the occasional lollipop, letting you suck on it as he stares at you then taking it from you to pop it in his mouth. The little whines you bless him with when he does so, is probably his favorite. Occasionally, he'll catch you staring at him when he smokes, the way your eyes stay on the cigarette as he blows the smoke out the window. Tapping the ash off the tip and closing the window as he puts it out and ruffles your hair, "It's bad for you, babydoll." The way your little pout wobbles as he walks away, has him almost groaning aloud as he shifts his semi-hard cock in his pants. Dabi's not entirely mean though, he'll have no problem letting you suck on his fingers or let you keep his cock warm with your sticky tongue as he watches the latest news about him. It's because he's so nice that he has you on his lap right now, letting you grind on his cock as he blows the smoke in your face, with a hand curled around your hair to pull you away from his face as you try and wrap your lips around the stick in his hand. You're such a persistent little thing, aren't you? That's ok, he finds that shit adorable, he'll make you a little deal, princess, yeah? "You wanna suck on it, dolly?" you tilt your head at that, "...suck on what, the cigarette?" he waves the stick in your face, chuckling when your eyes follow the little stick of nicotine, "yeah baby, what else were you thinking about?" You shake your head at him, "I thought you said..." He blows the smoke in your face, watching you as you cough into your elbow. "I said it was bad for you, babydoll... but, I'm willing to let you suck on it if you can complete a little task, how 'bout it, prettygirl?" There's an immediate nod after your coughing fit. He hums as he kisses you with a grin and pops the cigarette back in his mouth as he unbuckles his belt and pulls out his cock. "You make me cum down that little throat and I'll let you have whatever's left of it."

This is the embodiment of Yandere Dabi. He'll keep you safe from the bad people in the world, lock you away from monsters... but he's the worst kind of monster, a self-aware monster. He knows you didn't ask to be here, but he needs you, and he'll do whatever it takes to keep you.

🥀 yandere!Dabi + "I’ll protect you from everything, except me..”

I honestly hate that for him, he seems like a very genuine, good person. I'm positive he's thankful for the fans that love and adore him. But for people to deadass be weird and disrespectful by asking weird questions is disgusting. Justin didn't have to be there, he didn't even have to respond to the question so professionally. These types of 'fans' take things way too far. I genuinely hope he or another voice actor doesn't have to deal with/hear that weird shit again.

cw: talks about (pro)shipping, NSFW content, implications of pedophilia but most of all fucking cringe.

I don’t usually air my opinions out on here but my god I just saw the egregious video of Justin Briner (Deku’s VA) at a convention today at his own panel be asked about his opinion on ships for the millionth fucking time from a chronically online teenager, which has now prompted this response from him:

If you have yet to see the video, here you go but do heed the warnings above:

“It’s none of my business… really, who cares what 30 something year olds do—“

“But don’t you love your ship with Eri?”

heinous vent below:

I’ll start by saying that Justin’s response was, in the simplest terms, very professional even if it seemed innately dismissive.

… It’s clear as day to any rational fucking person he is uncomfortable with this genre of question and probably has heard it plenty times before in his career. He adores his fans and clearly “knows” the fandoms he’s in and the fact that it really isn’t his concern what other people choose to engage in — believe it or not, he does not need to be reminded every time he steps out and graces others with his time at cons or other anime related events.

Children should for one not be allowed to relay their hideous takes when they can hardly conceptualize what the difference between fiction/reality is… but I digress. I get it… I was a kid who ran around cons too, had lots of fun and learned a lot when I was plenty groomed by adults in the con-going community.

However, this is a level of abhorrence from a community of culminative disrespectful individuals who would rather spend time harassing voice actors than simply enjoying fandom or catering their internet experience are simply what we have coined nowadays as Chronically Online. It’s overwhelmingly children, but I’ve certainly met my share of adults who prioritize fandom rights/ships over basic human decency.

I frankly don’t care what you use to label yourself online (proshipper, anti, weeb, gooner, what fucking ever) because it isn’t a fucking protected attribute/class (race, sex, physical/mental disability, gender, etc). Hence we should not treat fiction in alignment with those. They are not the same and should not be held up to the same degree, and this clearly misunderstanding and need to virtue signal over fucking cartoons is frankly one of the goofiest things I’ve had the displeasure of experiencing on the vast interweb.

Put simply? Keep your shitty opinions to yourself. Believe it or not, the internet is a privilege, not a right. You can and should be catering your internet experience to your liking and to what is beneficial to your wellbeing. And if you are hardly of age to be consuming certain content.

That’s a difficult concept for children to grasp however — understandably. So we as adults should be putting clear parameters for our work and fandom space as well. We aren’t parents but we are writers, artists, fandom enjoyers, and just a bunch of “old” fucks who have hobbies and interests. We too have the ability to cater our internet experience, and I highly implore you all to be vigilant about who accesses your content.

Not everything can be in your control unfortunately, but if it can be helped, we can show that we are responsible consumers of media.

I am sorry. The ease in which we allow these children to air their poorly rendered opinions because the adults in their lives do not monitor them means we need to protect our own skin. And again, I am sorry for that, on their behalf’s.

We were all there too, but enough is enough. I doubt that will be the first of the last time a child or socially dense individual will make others miserable with their need for attention or blatant ignorance about consuming media responsibly — and/or treating others who provide that content with dignity and respect.

Go give Justin Briner some love as well over on Twitter/X. I’m sure the backlash to this is overwhelmingly negative or just a means for others to start threads of fandom turf wars (tHiS iS whY tHiS faNdom iS tRaSh, people just talking about how much they hate children, etc). This is a huge step in the establishment of boundaries and I hope we see some changes in large fandoms in general regarding understanding social and internet etiquette so we don’t have to make more people irl uncomfortable with takes about fictional characters.

Be kind to each other, even if you are not inherently into or care for another’s way of engaging in fandom. You have power, believe it or not. Don’t wrack your own brain being pissed over what others are going to do anyway… be in control of you.

Thank you so much @mostlyheinous for letting me make a little post based off your one Dabi audio. I hope I made you proud. 😭

TW: abusive relationship, degradation, physical abuse, verbal abuse, toxic Dabi.

Dabi is an asshole, you knew that, hell- everyone knew that. He never tried to hide it, never feigned nice, never even tried to give a compliment. He absolutely didn't know shit about privacy and personal space, either that or he just didn't care. You're willing to bet it's the former. So it's no big surprise when Dabi bursts into your room unannounced, with a scowl. He looks severely unhappy, looking you up and down and scoffing.

"What's your problem?" you ask with a sneer, adjusting your dress. He stands quiet for a minute before rolling his eyes and giving your dress a once-over. "You look like a slut," he shrugs, shutting your door and throwing your clothes mindlessly on the floor, and plopping down on your bed- if you can even call it that, putting his nasty, muddy shoes on your comforter.

Whipping around, you throw a tube of lipgloss at him, but unfortunately he catches it, throwing it to the side. "Who the fuck are you talking too? Get the hell out Dabi, go bother someone else." You scowl at him, turning back towards the mirror. He stares at you for a moment, getting up he grabs you by the hair, wrapping it around his fist and yanking you up. There's an immediate struggle on your side, hitting at his hand and pushing his chest.

"Who the fuck am I talking too? I'm talking to you bitch," there's a slap to your face, one of his rings catches your bottom, busting it open. "The fuck are you even wearing, huh? You found a new job at the street corner? How much you make a night sucking cock, hm? You let anyone fuck you, don't you? I fucking knew you felt looser, dirty bitch." There's blood leaking down your chin, getting on your chest and staining your dress. You try to push him away but he just slaps your hands away, grabbing your face, squeezing your cheeks together.

"Dabi stop!! Let go, you're hurting me," your crying now, mascara leaking down your cheeks. Dabi rubs at your wet eyes, ruining your eyeliner in the process, he snarls at you. "Shut the fuck up, I'm not hurting you, dumb bitch." He spits on his hand, rubbing it all over your face. "There all better, now you look a little less ugly," he grins.

You're sobbing now, repeatedly attempting to push his hand away, slapping at his chest. He ignores your attempt of a broken struggle, pulling you towards the bed and throwing you on it back first. Climbing on top of you, he rips your dress open. "Stop, stop, this was expensive."

He stops at that, looking up at you, he laughs in your face. Singeing the rest of your dress, he leans back with narrowed eyes. "That shit was expensive? That fucking rag costed money? It wasn't even covering shit, you had your fucking tits out and everything- if you can even call these tits," he grabs handfuls of your chest. Pulling at your nipples through your bra and spitting on your chest. "These barely pass for a fucking B cup." His saliva drips down the valley of your breasts, making them sticky.

"Dabi... please stop, please.." your voice comes out in a croak, chest still heaving with sobs. He scoffs at you, climbing off you and running a hand through his hair. It's quiet for a few minutes, cept for your sniffles now and again. "I told you I didn't want you going out, you didn't fucking listen to me. This is all your fault you know... if you're gonna blame someone blame yourself." You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing before you nod at him. He hums at you, "are you gonna listen next time- actually there won't be a next time. You're not allowed to go out anymore if I'm not with you. I don't care if Toga asks, you come to me first." You nod at him, pushing yourself up on your hands, "I'll ask Dabi, I promise." He nods at you, "good." Throwing a make-up wipe at you, he leaves.

NOOO I'M CRYING. WHY???

This is so good though, 'jiro's so cute ❤️

Mikey's voice is light.

It's tinkly, a little melodic, a little soft, airy- sounding, like a breeze coming through an open window.

You like how it sounds when he speaks, when he laughs, and especially when he says your name, the little 'chin' at the end he hasn't quite dropped despite being well into adulthood.

You like it even now, a thousand miles away, the tinkly breeze of his voice inundated by the crackle of the receiver, and the occasional shuffle as he takes another bite of a snack on hand.

And he always hums between it, changes position in his bed, an occasional "oof" as he turns over and presses the phone to his ear.

He likes your voice but he's not half as good with the words to describe it. He says it's "pretty" that's it - he likes your accent, the way your mouth forms certain words, the lilting foreignness of his name on your tongue, when you elongate "manjiro" to get his attention.

He's never said it mind you, but he thinks you know it already- or at least he hopes you do. You talk a lot with him, and he's surprised by how much he likes listening.

He's never been the type to slow himself down for anyone, take such a vested interest but it's different with you. He likes the wait, the "uhm" you do before you answer a question, the hum that often accompanies your thoughts.

Like now when you're quiet and he can tell that you're thinking, can almost imagine your eyes fixed to a spot with a frown.

'Hey 'jiro, can I ask a question?' you say now and your voice is punctuated by the rhythmic thump of the washing machine in the room adjacent.

It's a nice sound, helps to ground him sometimes. These almost nightly calls where you're letting him into your space even if it isn't physically. A reminder that you're there, that you're always there.

'Mhm? Yeah?' and he takes a bite of steaming hot taiyaki, winces when the steam seems to burn his tongue and you suppress a laugh at how he curses a "shit that's hot" and takes a swig of juice.

It's almost too comfortable at times like this. You could easily get lost in it- moments that never seem to end, the atmosphere punctuated by a tension that never breaks, a siren somewhere that reminds you of how far the two of you are, the lull in the line where the signal breaks.

And it's almost too easy to say, when you whisper a 'What would you do if you were in love with someone?'

And the silence is palpable, terrifyingly loud.

He stops chewing, eyes widening, a hand half halted in the air as he stares at the receiver, a sinking ache that settles in his tummy.

But he's Mikey, he's manjiro. And he's always known what that meant - the type that never lets anything bother him too much- the type that never cries in front of others- the type that has to be the man you need even if you don't feel like you need him.

'Huh?' he says, a little forced, a lump of taiyaki suddenly caught in his throat. 'You in love with someone or something?'

'Maybe I am. And maybe you know them.'

He lifts an eyebrow, the ache snaking towards his ribs. 'I know them?' and then, a sudden burst of noise. 'Is it ken-chin?! Oh you know ken-chin is in love with Emma-'

'No dummy! It's not ken-chin! I know he's with Emma, I'm not that mean that I'd go after your sisters boyfriend y'know.'

And he laughs unexpectedly at your sudden outburst, and it makes the tension a little easier to bear despite what he knows is coming, a rejection and hurt that he's spent a long time preparing for.

'Oh so not ken-chin,' he says and rolls over, propping his chin up in a hand that now discards the taiyaki wrapper on the bedside table. 'So do I get a clue?'

'No,' you say now, your voice broken by the pop-pop of a car exhausting it's engine outside. 'I didn't say I would tell you who it was y'know. But think...a little closer to home maybe.'

'Oh.......'I get it.' A beat. 'You're in love with Emma!'

'No?! When I said closer to home I didn't mean it like that!' You huff in faux annoyance, and he smiles to himself, the tug of his lips instinctual when he senses the irritation in you, and it hurts to prolong this kind of pain, to slowly tug the band-aid.

'Mhm, you could just tell me yknow, maybe I could help set you up.'

And you roll onto your back, stretch out a hand to the window where the moon sits on a branch, the white ivory of it cracked by the grey mist of the clouds.

'I do not trust you as far as I could throw you when it comes to matchmaking me manjiro.'

'Hey!' he says, a familiar pout as he stretches his hand towards the window on his own side, the edge of his white tank top riding up as he shifts onto his back. 'I'm not that bad. You saying I couldn't find someone who treats you like a princess?'

I could.

You giggle, a slip of a laugh despite the brewing tears. 'I don't doubt it, but no, I don't need you to matchmake me. And besides you're getting off topic. I asked what would you do if you were in love with someone....someone you knew.'

And you sigh, a half stifled thing that you hope he doesn't notice, hope is lost somewhere in the end to end encryption. And he pauses in thought, turning it over on his tongue, the familiar ache, the pain that never ends when he speaks to you, a dread that always follows the searing hurt of your smile across his chest. 'Mhm, depends who they were. Someone close?'

'I guess so. We're...best friends. At least I'd like to think so.'

'Excuse me, you have other best friends that aren't me?!'

You stiffen, pull back a little, a dangerously close dip to the truth. 'I didn't - that's not the point!' you huff, hoping it hides enough, hoping you're still elusive. 'Would you tell them?'

And his heart thunders across his ribs, a plummet into his stomach, a redness that spills across the ivory of his skin. He lapses into a silence then, a quietness punctuated by the thwack of the branches on the window.

'Jiro?'

'Huh? Oh yeah sorry, got distracted by something.' And he clears his throat, swallowing the ache, the spiky slice of a knife edge across his chest. 'I would only tell them if I knew they liked me too, if I was sure.'

'And....how would you be sure?' A whisper dripped down the line.

His tongue is heavy, clinging to the roof of his mouth, a weight that's heavy and suffocating. 'I don't know, I don't think you could be without being honest.'

'But being honest means you might be wrong, because what if they don't like you back? Especially as your best friend.'

You muffle the sniffle, time it perfectly with the roll onto your side, the moon now falling and hidden entirely by the trees, a white ring of light that cracks through the branches.

'Yeah....' he says, a trail of a murmur that's soft and silky. 'I guess you don't really know unless you try.'

And he hates that he holds out hope, that he wishes he could hear it even now, knowing what he knows, and hoping to hold on anyway.

'Mhm...yeah you're right.' A crash, a crescendo, an end. 'Anyway, 'Jiro, it's late, I gotta go okay?'

'Yeah, yeah me too,' he says, a disappointment crashing through his bones. 'I'll see you tomorrow yeah?'

'Mhm, goodnight 'Jiro.'

'Goodnight Princess.'

And he holds the phone to his ear long after you're gone, watching the moon fall further down, a hand of his stretched out towards it, knowing somehow somewhere you're doing the same.

Reblogs appreciated