#final girl choso route

[banjjakz]

➡ Fall asleep.

When you blink back into consciousness, a gentle warmth welcomes you to the land of the living. At some point in your slumber, you pitched sideways to huddle your achingly cold bones in a fetal position. Now, you find yourself struggling to activate your joints after succumbing to a slumber so deep it’s seemed to have left you with rigor mortis.

As you sit up, an unfamiliar layer of fuzzy fabric slides from your shoulders. A blanket! Ah, that explains the extra warmth. But you don’t remember bringing a blanket with you… and you’ve never seen this particular blanket in your entire life. Sure, it’s cozy and high-quality, but the pattern of wide-open eyes littered across the black cloth is off-putting – although, not entirely unpleasant.

Oh shoot, did someone put this on you? Have you been discovered?

“Hello.”

Spooked, you whip your head to the side, where you had not even registered the presence of another living being. “Ahh!!!”

“I did not mean to frighten you. I apologize.”

Are you – are you dreaming?

You must be dreaming. They term isn’t “yumejoshi” for no reason. There is no way Choso squats in front of you, less than a meter away, so close that you can smell his earthy, metallic fragrance. He hasn’t even changed out of his stage costume: his customary white robes are still soaked through with sweat from the earlier performance, gracing the pale fabric a tantalizing semi-translucence. His purple gi is nowhere to be found, which exposes the unholy caverns of his collarbones, the inviting jut of his skeletal sternum. The signature pigtails are also undone, leaving his stringy black hair to metastasize down the sides of his gaunt face, across the barren valley of his jagged shoulder blades. And yet, that solid bar of black remains perfectly applied across the center of his face.

“…Nn?”

“Are you alright?”

Choso stays where he is, head cocked in concern. Quickly, you realize you have two options.

You can tell the truth and admit that you’d been waiting outside just to see him walk a few paces before getting into a nondescript vehicle. Totally normal fan behavior that will definitely go over well.

Or, you can lie.

“I-I don’t have anywhere else to go,” you demure, casting your eyes down in false bashfulness. You would feel bad about this if you were a better person.  “And the memories from ShinShow’s performances always sustain me…I just thought, if I could enjoy the positive energy for a little while longer…I would be sustained. I’m sorry…”

“Why do you apologize?”

One of Choso’s most appealing charming points is his overly formal, somewhat antiquated manner of speaking. He sounds like a historical figure who has been yanked from the past, inserted haphazardly into contemporary pop culture. Very fitting for his lore. But you’d also been under the assumption that this was merely a stage act – is he that committed to his image? Or is it innate?

The thought of Choso simply being Like That is too endearing to bear. You hide your face behind your palms, concealing the tremulous smile that possesses your lips.

“It’s embarrassing… and I’ve troubled Choso-nii…”

The last thing you expect are cold, impossibly cold, hands to wrap around your wrists, kindly (but firmly) uncovering your face. Choso has drawn closer to you, so close that when he breathes, it brushes the bridge of your nose.

His face is impassive, as usual – but upon closer inspection, you notice a strange, wavering quality in his eyes, a slight tremor in his lips. There might actually be color on the tips of his ears. Usually, he appears as though he is so pale there is no blood coursing through his veins that could produce a blush.

Evidently, this is not the case.

“Choso-nii is not troubled,” he states plainly, leaving no room for argument. “The night is no place for a little one to be sleeping unguarded.”

Oh, you could faint here and now. It’s an active choice on your part to remain conscious. “Mn…”

“You will come with me now.”

And so you do.

This is how you find yourself in the back of an unmarked, utilitarian white van. To anyone else the vehicle would appear as little more than a maintenance truck. But you know better.

Inside the living-quarters is a mish-mash of discarded clothing items in varying degrees of cleanliness; discarded guitar picks; empty takeout containers; and a random jumble of electronic chargers. Inexplicably, there is also an abundance of first-aid supplies, with over half of it apparently already used. As he sits you down on one of the distressed leather seats, Choso uses the medical kit to tend to a few scrapes on your legs and arms earned from your impromptu nap on the concrete.

“It’s really not that bad…You don’t have to—”

“Enough.”

Embarrassed, you shut your mouth. How do you even cope with this situation? Here you are, in the back of your oshi’s travel van, as he sits on his knees in front of you, hands impatiently pushing your clothes away to reveal your bare skin. His touch leeches the body heat out of you like a parasite. You want to be sucked dry.

“This will sting.” That’s all the warning you get before hydrogen peroxide is unceremoniously dumped on your fresh scrapes.

Unbidden, you let out a strangled whine, hands flying to the closest part of him you can reach – which happens to be his head. You clutch at his hair to absolve you of your suffering. “Choso-nii! It hurts!”

Ker-thlunk. Glug… glug… glug…

Fuck! Your spasming must have knocked over the hydrogen peroxide…. the upended bottle spills its guts across the floor, drenching the air in an oppressively medicinal stink.

Oddly, no irritancy mars Choso’s features. If anything, he looks more flustered than you feel, which doesn’t make much sense to you.

“I’m so sorry! I c-can clean it up, I promise---”

“Leave it.” He speaks without meeting your eyes. “You are injured.”

Barely, you want to retort. But acknowledging the fact that your so-called “injuries” are very minor surface scrapes would shatter the illusory bubble of realized fantasy into which you have miraculously stumbled.

Before you can reply, Choso continues: “The human mouth is the fastest-healing part of the body. Saliva heals.”

“Okay,” you say, because there is nothing else you could possibly respond with. He can’t mean—surely, he doesn’t—

But there he goes, leaning in close to the supple flesh of your bared leg, breath ghosting along the very surface, raising the hairs that quiver in eager anticipation. “I said I would help you feel better. Please allow me this. It is my duty.”

And then he begins to suck on your wounds.

“Oh-kay,” you squeal, entirely convinced that you have begun to astral project. The scrape on the inside of your knee is laved over by his tongue, which is, strangely, just as chilled as the rest of him. When his eyes flick up at your exclamation, you realize that you have yet to release his hair.

Nor do you want to.

“B-be gentle, please…” You’re laying it on thick. You know it. How could you resist? He’s eating it up – literally – mouthing repeatedly over the sensitive area as though he is spiritually compelled to do so. And just because you’re a little too observant, a little too greedy for your own good, you decide to push your luck: “Will Choso-nii make me feel better everywhere?”

With a wet pop, he unleashes your leg from his wet, red mouth. “Where does it hurt,” he asks, pupils blown wide, nothing more than a twin pair of black holes.

“Mn…all over…I’m sore, from sleeping on the ground…”

Choso rises from his knees to crowd you into the back of the seat. Of course, you willingly melt back, pliant in the wake of his potent desire.

“Do you need Choso-nii to make it better?”

“Please,” you whimper, peering up at him through your dewy, tear-damp lashes.

Holy shit, you can’t believe this actually worked. Two hours ago, you were just one of hundreds of faceless, sweaty fans, screaming their hearts out to some of the most hauntingly morbid lyrics.

And now, you are caged in the unforgiving embrace of your oshi, completely at his mercy, littered in hickeys and lovebites and bruises as he has his way with you. Your sharp cries of pain do the opposite of dissuade him; with each groan and plea for him to slow down, take a pause, ow, ow, it hurts Choso-nii--, he grows all the more impassioned, all the more frantic.

He only pulls away from you when there is not a single inch of exposed skin left for him to mark. The sound of your comingled pants fill the van, fogging the windows with physical evidence of your salacious tryst.

Neither of you speak for a moment, content to simply gaze into each other’s eyes. His hair is frazzled every which way, due in no small part to your rough handling. Is it normal to be turned on by such a trainwreck of a human? Should you really be wet between the thighs at being mauled?

“Do—” his voice cracks in a way you have never heard before, not on any livestream, not in any video, not on any stage. “Do you feel better, now?”

Maybe it’s fate…maybe, somewhere out there, far, far away, there is a benevolent being who wants nothing but the best for you. Maybe they concentrated their divine powers into finding you, in this moment, and directing your gaze to the loose pocketknife innocently resting on the grimy floor next to his clunky black platforms. In this moment, as you pick up the blade, unsheathing it without breaking eye contact with the ghoulish specter hovering above you, an inexplicable wave of love and appreciation washes over you, bathing your half-dressed body in the warm waters of some distant, far-off shore.

It's almost too easy to slice a surface wound – a cat-scratch, really – into the plush swell of your upper thigh.

“What about here, Choso-nii?” You ask, enraptured by the peculiar twitching of his facial muscles. “Can you kiss it better right here?”

Once again, you are right on the money.

Choso dives to chase the rivulet of blood running down your leg like a man stumbling across an oasis in the desert. Devotionally, he tongues at the gory slit, sucking more blood from your self-inflicted wound, moaning as if he is the one being pleasured right now. In a strange way, you think he might be.

Your initial quick-thinking unleashes an outlandish chain reaction which finds you, inevitably, entirely unclothed with a not-insignificant amount of reddening slashes across your naked form. When it’s all said and done, Choso will tend to each and every cut, diligently disinfecting and dressing the disrupted flesh, allowing you to weakly tug at his hair (now pulled back from his face into two twin pigtails) when it burns.

Upon the final swipe of antibacterial ointment, you are halfway in dreamland, barely cognizant enough to recognize that you should probably be getting the hell out of here, at this point. However, shunning reason and common sense is the exact behavior that’s gotten you this far – so you decide to stick to what you know.

“Choso-nii,” you murmur groggily into the leather seat. “Blanket?”

“What blanket?”

His confusion is confusing you. “The one you gave me… ‘s cold…”

“…I did not give you a blanket.” For the first time since he’d picked you up behind the venue, Choso’s voice sounds grounded in reality. Released from the shackles of lust and taboo desire, he speaks with lucid candor. “Was that blanket not yours?”

“Nope,” you hum, blissfully dazed. “Where ‘s ‘t?”

Sleep descends upon your worn, battered form before you hear his answer.

Oh well. As long as Choso-nii is nearby, you have nothing to worry about.

[ROUTE CLEAR.]

next suggested route: okkotsu yuuta

> main menu > prologue > guide

> report an issue

[keikikait]

𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕤! 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕧𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕘𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕣 𝟚 𝕤𝕦𝕓! choso x f!reader

pairing: camboy!choso x f!reader (both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 879

summary: living in tokyo is tough, and it’s hard to make ends meet. while you took the more traditional route, working a fulltime job in retail, your boyfriend took the more…alternative approach, not that you minded. word got to his fans about his pretty little girlfriend, and suddenly you find yourself working with him.

warnings: cam stuff, (kinda mean)dom!choso, sub!reader, porn with literally zero plot, fingering, spanking, clit slapping/pinching (lightly), spitting (oop), use of ‘cock’ and ‘cunt’, dacryphilia (kind of), edging, slight degradation/name calling [bitch (just once), whore, slut], pet name use [baby, sweetheart]

a note: i’m gonna be pumping out some fics for a while since i have a lot of ideas. that being said, requests are open!

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

[NEW MESSAGE FROM: deathpainting150]

{hopping on soon, this time with a special guest :-). remember guys, minimum donation of ¥200 to avoid spam! <3}

Choso was sitting with his back against the wall, long legs straight out in front of him with you bent over his lap, your cute ass right in frame, spread out for about 15,000 people.

You grip the bedsheets tight as his thumb swirls on your clit over your panties. There’s an obvious wetspot, he’s been playing with you absentmindedly as he was setting up the stream.

“Relax, baby.” He says, pressing his thumb down a little harder. “Wanna show everyone how good you are for me.” He pulls your panties down, the lace sitting around your knees.

Choso grips your asscheeks and spreads them. “Fuck.” He angles his head to get a better look at your spread cunt, still making sure to keep his face out of frame. “Fuck, baby. You’re so wet, cunt’s so pretty and puffy…fucking hell.” He leans forward a little and spits on you, dribbling down your slit and dripping onto the bedsheets.

You whine and wiggle around. “Choso, please!”

He laughs, rolling your clit between his fingers. “What, baby? Come on, use your words. You know I don’t like it when you whine.” He pinches your clit for good measure, just to get his point across.

Your eyes roll back into your skull and your cunt clenches around nothing. “Please, fuck, please just touch me! I wanna cum so bad!” 

Choso ignores you, continuing to roll your clit around and occassionally pinching it. He loves having you like this; spread out over his lap, dripping everywhere, completely fucked out. Maybe if you were a good girl he would let you cum, too.

A loud dading! sounds through the room, signalling a donation.

[virtualpeaches has donated ¥1,000! “tease her a little bit more. make her cry.”]

Choso chuckles as he reads the donation aloud. “Oh, trust me, she’ll cry.” He rubs your clit with his thumb, occasionally dipping into your cunt just to tease you.

Another dading! sounds through the room.

[academicsallow has donated ¥5,000! “make the bitch beg 2 cum.”]

You barely even hear the next donation as Choso continues to tease your clit, barely even grazing it with his thumb. You get antsy and push your hips back directly onto his thumb, grinding your clit against it.

He laughs and presses down even harder, giving your asscheek a slap. “Fucking whore. Couldn’t even wait your turn, huh?” He lets you grind against his thumb, finding your neediness so adorable. 

He moves his other hand, draping his arm over your back and sinks two fingers into you. “Such a needy little thing. Grinding on my hand like I’m a fucking sextoy.” You push your hips back to meet his thrusts and he pulls his thumb away from your clit to spank you. “Who’s in charge here? You or me?”

When you don’t answer, he grips your hair at the root and tugs your head back. You finally stutter a response. “You! You’re in charge! ‘m sorry, Choso!”

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” He coos at you, his voice condescending. “Fucking act like it.”

You nod pathetically and he lets go of your hair, bringing his thumb back to your clit. Your head drops onto the matress and you grip the sheets. More and more donations are coming in, and you can only wonder what they’re saying about you. Maybe Choso will show you after, just to humiliate you a little bit more.

That familiar feeling builds in your tummy. “Fuck, Choso, please-shit! I’m gonna cum!”

He chuckles, applying more pressure with his thumb. “Yeah? Little slut’s gonna cum for me, hmm?” 

You nod again, pushing your ass back towards him, and right as you get to the edge-

Choso stops.

He completely pulls his hands away, gripping your hips to keep you in place.

You whine and wiggle, your cunt clenching around nothing. “Choso!” You ball your fists and tears of frustration run down your cheeks.

He laughs, unable to take you seriously. “Shush, baby. You’ll get to cum soon.” He grabs your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. “God, you look so pretty when you cry.”

“This isn’t fair!” You whine. “I’ve been a good girl!”

“I know you are,” He says. “But you aren’t in charge here, sweetheart, I am.” He lets go of your chin and goes back to rolling your clit between his fingers.

He straightens up a bit and reads through the chat. “If we make it to ¥60,000 I’ll let you cum, does that sound good baby?”

You shake your head. “I wanna cum now!” He ignores your protests, continuing to play with your clit. “Choso, please!”

He spanks you again. “Shush. Don’t make me gag you.”

You whine but lay there, like a good girl, as he continues to play with you.

Another dading! sounds through the room, and Choso reads this one aloud to you.

[sixeyedsatoru {tier 1 sub!} has donated ¥80,000! “Make her cum. I’ll donate another ¥20,000 if you use your cock.”]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

short n sweet, just how i like them. send in requests, por favor, give me some ideas.

pt 2 here

[strawberryfairi]

Hello girl!! I love the stuff you write, it’s so immersing and fun to read,

To start off, how about JJK men and where they’d take you on a first date! Maybe also if they fumble or not? Or something along the lines of that if you’d like!

Note🧚🏾‍♀️: Omg hey🙋🏾‍♀️ that is so so sweet, thank you so much🥹!! I really appreciate that 'cause sometimes I be like dang, is my writing ass🧍🏾‍♀️🤡💀?? Lol but anywaaaayssssss...I decided to go and try the short fic kind of route for these so they'll be on the longer side, therefore I'm gonna make it a multipart thing! (P.S. Lmk also if the short fic version gave as opposed to the just straight bullet point thoughts)

JJK + First Date Headcanons

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙

CHOSO KAMO ʚ🌹ɞ

Choso, being new to the dating world and not having really anyone to go to for advice on this particular field, chooses what he believes is the smart way to go....to the internet. There's so many articles, Youtube videos, and even movies that discuss the topic of "The Perfect First Date". The options are overwhelming, yet there's one idea that really catches his eye.

It's a Saturday, just hitting around twelve in the afternoon, and Choso is right on time just as he said he'd be. He's at your door, dressed in a black- fairly loose fitted- button up top, with acid wash black ripped jeans. His hair is in his signature style, the two spiky buns that you absolutely adore on him. You could smell the subtle hint of cologne on him, a very earthy and mellow fragrance that seemed to match his overall personality well. It was highly attractive.

He looks so nervous, and honestly, a huge part of you was relieved as you were shaking in your own boots as well.

"H-hey" He stammers cutely, "You ready to go?"

A sweet smile etches it's way across your glossy lips, "Yeah, I'm ready!"

He extends his right arm, allowing for you to link yours with him as he takes you to his car out front of your place. "You look beautiful by the way;...as always." He compliments with a faint dusty pink hue across his pale cheeks.

"Thank you. You look great as well; as always." You chuckle lightly, feeling your own cheeks heat up right along with him.

The drive isn't too long, and you figure out exactly where he's taking you as he pulls up to a beautiful looking arboretum parking lot, in the outskirts of Tokyo. You let out a soft gasp, heart warming at his choice in date destination.

"Oh wow, Choso this looks so beautiful already!" You beam excitedly, staring out the window in a rather childlike way as he puts the car in car.

"I'm glad you think so. I was so nervous you wouldn't like it." He admits with a timid chuckle. He gets out of the car, then comes around to give you a hand as you step out. You watch as he goes to the back seat, taking out a large blanket along with a basket that you hadn't even noticed. As if his idea couldn't get any sweeter. You feel your heart swell with warmth, watching as a happy, wide smile plasters itself across his adorable face.

"Ok..." Choso nods, grabbing your hand gently and leading you past the tall, black metal gates.

He chose such a perfect time of year as well, mid spring, when all the flowers have bloomed and the trees are full of lively colored leaves. The scent of all the flowers fill the air, being carried around by the soft breeze. You spot plum blossoms, cherry blossoms, camellias, and even lavender. Choso practically follows you around like a lost puppy, taking in all your explanations of each flower and how you love their shape and color. Even he can't help but squat down and gently touch some of their soft petals.

Finally, the pair of you reach the main event of the whole arboretum, a small stream with a beautiful, traditional looking red bridge in the center of a field. Beautiful lines of cherry blossom trees surround the area, and patches of flowers grow along the bank of the stream.

Choso sets the blanket down while you smoothen it out along the grass, and place the basket filled with foods he hopes you'll like down. The two of you talk, getting to know each other better while enjoying both the scenery, and overall, each other's company. You're already so enamored by Choso solely due to the amount of effort he's put into the first date alone.

So far, he never comes across like you're a burden or that it's some kind of obligation to take you out on a date, and you really appreciate that attitude from him.

He's made his intentions very clear with you, and this first date is just the icing on the cake. Inwardly, unbeknownst to either of you, you both wish this date would never end.

────────────────────────────

A/N❥: Choso does NOT fumble the first date bag whatsoever in my book! He's just too much of a sweetheart for that; he gon' do his RESEARCH🧐🔬 okaaaay!!!! But fr though, this was very fun to write! I really like this idea of doing date headcanons in this kind of short fic form, thank you so much for the ask🙆🏾‍♀️

[banjjakz]

route warnings: major character death, depictions of guns, knifeplay, bloodplay, unsanitary heavy petting, implied sexual intercourse, unethical power imbalance, morally questionable!reader

➡ Loiter behind the venue.

The insect hive of fellow wotas mill about the venue’s front entrance. Many will linger for hours after a performance, arms stiff from shouldering the weight of raised phones and professional cameras, hoping against hope that a tour bus or slew of vehicles will drive past with tinted windows cracked just low enough for familiarly calloused hands to wave an exhausted, but nonetheless grateful, farewell.

This is an idiotic choice, obviously.

Shinjuku Showdown don’t use a tour bus, or any kind of distinctly idol-like mode of transportation. How they manage to evacuate entirely undetected after a concert has been a longstanding mystery within the fan community for years. Actual veteran stans know this.

Usually, it fills you with a bitter sort of protective rage when you are forced to constantly confront the ugly truth that most of ShinShow’s current fans are total noobs. But when a rare, coveted opportunity presents itself only to those who recognize it for what it is, you are grateful that the masses are too blinded by the potential of photo-ops and viral LQ fansite images to notice the immense blessing right underneath their upturned noses.

It is all too easy to slip into the shadows -- melding with the darkness feels like coming home. You navigate the venue’s stiflingly confined corridors, dodging bare wires and exposed pipes, ignoring the odd skitter or scurry of creatures unidentifiable, until you navigate your way to the back entrance.

Outside air is a welcome reprieve from the humid, charged atmosphere of the venue. You hadn’t even noticed the faint sheen of perspiration faintly coating your flesh until it catches the chill of the windy night. Shivering, you hug your torso, stumbling along the pavement until you spy a particularly shaded alcove merely a few paces away.

Sure, the brick wall is slightly slimy with substances you don’t even want to begin to identify. But it isn’t unbearable. If you contort your body into a compact sphere and huff into your knees and fold your palms inside the intimate slip of skin between the backs of your quivering thighs and the trembling muscles of your shivering calves, it’s almost, like, fine.

Whatever. To catch a glimpse of ShinShow before they leave – unobstructed by dumb slogans and ugly uchiwas – is worth more than any potential illness. You can and will persevere.

It isn’t an option to let this opportunity slip through your fingers. Just think what it would be like, to be the first fan to see them leave a venue! Your testimony would obviously go viral within the niche online fanspace…. but you don’t even want to share the revelation with anyone else. It’ll just be for you. All for you. You don’t think you could handle it if anyone else saw the members in that raw, vulnerable state… especially not your favorite.

Flushing, you hide your face in your knees. Your entire body is wracked with chills that are completely unrelated to the frigid temperature.  

You are a fan of the entire group’s success. That’s a given. You’ve loved them all as individual idols and members of disparate groups until they eventually came together to form ShinShow. This is a fact of which you are proud.

That said, you’re only human…and it would be impossible, as a wota, not to have an oshi.

The drummer, Choso, has caught your eye from time immemorial. As a majority of the band, his image has stayed consistent regardless of what company or group he’s been apart of. Forever branded into the supple tissue of your brain is the first professional photoshoot of his to go viral within the idol community: Choso, hair down, clad in haphazardly disheveled robes, and drenched in blood. It was like one of those sexy wet T-shirt ads but instead of tacky, it was erotically morose. Several domestic news outlets reported on it and had to censor the photographs while live on-air. His ensuing EP was banned from play in most educational facilities. You spent countless nights with those photos, your vibrator, and some very… specific… scripted ASMR videos.

To make matters worse, his concept is totally your type. Choso is the big-brother figure of all his bandmates and fans. As such, every fanbase he’s ever claimed addresses him affectionately as “Choso-nii.”

I-it’s not like you like things like that! Rather, the thought of a stronger, capable, dedicated older figure who would lay down his life to protect you… even if it meant screwing the rest of the world…

Ugh, the fantasy has featured in too many of your wet dreams to name. Speaking of dreams, you sure are getting sleepy…standing for hours in line and then for several more hours during a live show is no easy feat. Huddled against the brick wall, cocooned in your own warmth, slumber beckons to you with a seductive allure.

What will you do?

➡ Stay awake.

➡ Fall asleep.

[banjjakz]

➡ Stay awake.

Fighting the urge to shut your eyes is nigh impossible. Despite your inextinguishable passion for a chance encounter with your oshi, you are unfortunately unable to re-code your own biology. You descend into sleep’s merciful embrace, too far gone to even realize you’ve passed out from sheer exhaustion until you are rudely awoken by a forceful, involuntary bodily jolt.

Bolting upright, you awaken in a cold sweat, the back of your head cracking against the brick wall that you had been so peacefully slumbering on mere moments before.

The immediate fear of robbery or assault grips you by your dry, parched throat, rendering any potential scream stillborn on the trembling tip of your tongue. But when your eyes fall upon the aggressor, the white-hot burn of shame replaces any terror.  

Shaggy, greasy black hair in desperate need of a shower; wide shoulders, impossibly plush-looking pecs; a tight, black t-shirt with loose cargo pants, both of which have seen better days; and a vertical scar accenting the right side of that smarmy mouth…

The security guard from earlier found you!

Oh no, this is bad. If you get caught loitering after a performance, you could be blacklisted from future shows at this location! And the band could even receive your picture…or name…

No, you absolutely cannot be connected to this failed attempt at a stakeout. To think that Choso-nii might see you as nothing more than an obsessive, crazed fan…

With nothing else to lose, you promptly fold forward into a deep, kneeling bow, forehead slamming against the concrete before you can think too much about what you’re doing.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Security Guard! I was wrong!! Please don’t tell ShinShow!! I will leave immediately!!!”

Silence.

And then…

“They’re long gone, baby girl. And here I was, thinkin’ you were waitin’ around for little ol’ me.”

A small huff of air, like the exhalation of smoke after a rough drag. You chance a peek upwards and – yep – the grizzly bastard is definitely laughing at you.

Well. As close to “laughing” as his gnarly face can get. His features – probably once very princely handsome – are mangled with scares and a nose that definitely healed crooked more than just once. You know it’s Kabukichou, but is this the kind of security that works around here…?

You can’t even identify a nametag anywhere on his person. He’s not even wearing a uniform!

“Wait a second,” you protest, rising to sit upright once more, eyes squinting in suspicion. “Do you even work here? I don’t see a nametag. Or a uniform.”

The amusement drops from his face like a fresh kill hitting the floor. “Damn. ‘S a shame. You were kinda cute while you lasted.”

Before you can even ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean, the security guard reaches into the back of his pants (hello???) and whips out a handgun. He handles it with easy confidence and nimble, deft digits: the damning mark of familiarity.

Holy shit! “Holy shit,” you exclaim, scrambling backwards, dismayed to realize that there is nowhere else to go but the unforgiving, immovably solid brick wall behind you. “Where did you even get that? We’re in freaking Japan!”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, sweetheart. Jus’ go back to sleep.”

The last thing you see before your world fades to black are his cold eyes and dastardly smirk, framing the fuzzy space around the raised barrel of his gun.

Oh well. At least he’s hot.

[MAY YOU REST IN PEACE.]

> try again > main menu

[banjjakz]

final girl: jjk visualkei idol!au x stan!f!reader

player's guide

recommended route order: choso -> yuuta -> suguru -> toji -> sukuna

SYSTEM WARNING: you may need to play through multiple endings to progress to the next route. if, at the end of a route, you are not prompted to progress, please restart your game and make a different selection.

please utilize the route selection function for re-plays only. jumping ahead will result in confusion and possible death.

> main menu > game library > home > route selection > help request form

[banjjakz]

final girl: jjk visualkei idol!au x stan!f!reader

route selection

system warning: this menu is available to players who have already completed prerequisite routes. if you attempt to jump ahead, may you rest in peace.

> choso route > yuuta route > geto route > prologue > game library > guide > home > help request form

[banjjakz]

AAA i wanna play final girl so bad- i found it on ao3 and came here, i keep trying to click on the prologue and it’s leading me to a lost url kms

hi anon! thank you so much for letting me know. all tumblr links have been corrected (to the best of by abilities... "OTL) and should route to the appropriate post.

choso route update has also hit the ao3 version! the in-text links should route to the ao3 chapters and not the tumblr versions.... i hope..... ;;;;

extremely grateful for your interest <3 hope you enjoy!